The Horcrux
by Unknownmusic
Summary: Harry's grown up under Voldemort's thumb knowing he's a Horcrux. So when he finally manages to escape, he suddenly finds himself in Light territory attending a strange school named Hogwarts with none other than the Light Lord, Dumbledore, as Headmaster.
1. Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands

**I do not own Harry Potter. **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

He had finally escaped. He was free.

Free.

The word was so foreign to him tasted sweeter than the greatest of delicacies he had been lavished in this life. No more obedience to a madman. No more prison to enslave him. No more mind games to keep him on the brink of insanity.

No more.

Harry James Potter was free.

~0~

**Chapter 1: Encounter**

Harry knew one place were Tom would never enter. To do so was suicidal, even for the Dark Lord. One step past the barrier meant certain death. A painful death. Quite ironic, really, considering how adverse to pain the Light was. They hated even the smallest cut yet they had one of the most brutal wards known to wizardry raised to keep out the Dark. Such harm only came to those against the Light while those loyal to it could pass through harmlessly. Harry was not a Light supporter but he was certainly not a Dark one either. It would be interesting to see how the wards would react to somebody of neither loyalty.

The haggard teen made his way to the wards' edges and hesitated the slightest bit before setting his teeth and proceeding. The second Harry passed a toe into the barrier, he felt his magic suppressed and prepared for the worst.

But nothing else occurred. He wasn't one large pile of ash like countless Dark before him. While having no magic was disconcerting, it would hardly make a difference. Harry didn't need magic to defeat a wizard. He breathed a sigh of small relief and began to follow the paved road further into Light territory.

The cloudy day seemed oddly fitting for the situation. Today had been the day to see whether he could actually _remain_ free from Tom. If Harry hadn't been able to pass the barrier, he would have been forced to live on the run with the risk of getting caught and being dragged back to Tom. He scowled at the thought. The Dark Lord would never kill his own Horcrux, but it wouldn't keep him from punishment.

Harry held no illusions about himself. He knew his soul was permanently twisted and blackened by the Dark Lord's own. Perhaps he could have escaped the influence if he had been freed earlier in life, but fourteen years under a sadistic madman and constant pressure from his soul made it difficult to remain innocent and untainted. Tom's thumb had left its mark. Harry would have liked it if a maniac's soul hadn't shaped his own, but there was nothing he could do. He had already suppressed the Dark Lord's soul and absorbed it, in a manner of speaking. He was a sort of soul hybrid between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter. He could kill, but only when necessary. He could speak to snakes but they were his friends, not pets. He could be devilishly cunning yet bursts of rash action came erratically. He could read anybody like an open book but he never took advantage of it unless need. He could be cruel to the point of sadistic yet hated every second of it. He had one of the largest magical cores of the century but he never flaunted his power. In short, he could do almost everything Tom could to a muted degree.

He _was_ Tom, his Horcrux, a version of him twisted by some Potter genes.

All Harry really wanted was a normal life with a normal mentor with normal friends. He was sure almost half of the world had that and the remaining half didn't have a mass murderer implanting a part of his soul in them. Sometimes Harry wondered what he could have possibly done in a previous life to land him in this situation.

But maybe Lady Luck was finally looking down upon him. He had escaped and now out of Tom's clutches. Nobody in this Light Sanctuary knew he existed, let alone who he was. He could start anew here. Maybe make an actual friend or two.

The small town of Hogsmeade eventually came into view. There were many small settlements like it dotting the Light territory. Harry only knew too well the landscape. Tom had made sure it was a part of his education just in case they ever destroyed the wards. Harry had been surprised that the Light had no large bases or cities like the Dark did. He had wondered why they didn't bother when such stations could be helpful. But now that he was coming face-to-face with such a small area, he could almost understand why they preferred such towns.

Hogsmeade was quaint. From the small houses to the cozy stores lining the main street, a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling permeated the air. Harry smiled as he came to the edge of the town's entrance road. Tom would have ben repulsed by the cheer oozing from the place, but that was where Harry differed. He enjoyed the feeling of calm content here and was all too eager to become a part of it.

Harry strolled down the main street and glanced at the many occupations. There was a tavern, a Potions supplier, a bookstore, a candy store, an apothecary, a wand store, a strange joke shop, and a myriad of countless other things. Everybody was busy doing their part and it all seemed to move with a habitual smoothness. It fascinated him to see such an amiable atmosphere. Harry was so absorbed that it took him a whole walk down the main road before he noticed something peculiar.

There were no children.

Harry scanned the crowd once more to check his observation only to notice how many appeared married and well. In almost every store, a couple ran the business with their marital rings glittering for all to see. Surely some of them had offspring.

Harry curiously poked his head into the nearest store to ask. He ran his gaze around the dim room only to spot nobody there. There was only a small waiting area with several chairs and a counter barring entrance to the seemingly endless array of small boxes. Harry frowned. What, exactly, was sold here? He withdrew his head from the doorway to glance back at the sign outside. It read "_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._".

So Ollivander sold wands. A small trickle of curiosity overcame Harry. He had always seen Tom and his followers wield wands but he himself had never been given one. Tom hadn't allowed it. Wands gave a wizard a better channel for their magic and Tom was far too cautious to put any such weapon into Harry's hands. He knew all too well of his Horcrux's desire to explore beyond the Dark and he hadn't wanted any lack of devotion. Regardless, Harry had learned to use magic wandlessly and after so many years of doing it that way, Harry had a feeling he would be better off without a wand. There was no point in adjusting to another channel for his magic when he was far more adept with another. Wandless magic also gave a wizard a considerable advantage over those who did use wands and now that Harry had begun to learn wordless magic as well, a wand would just be a hindrance. Wandless and wordless magic combined would be far more formidable on and off the battlefield. Still, Harry had always wanted to have a wand, even if it was just for perks.

"Looking for something?"

Harry whirled around to see a wizened man staring at him from a perch behind the store counter.

"Are you Ollivander?"

The man grinned. "Naturally. I think I am…but there's nothing stopping you from calling me Susan if you so wished."

Harry lips twitched in amusement. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Here for a wand? You seem a bit old to be buying one now. I suppose it's never too late to head off to Hogwarts."

Harry had heard Tom mention Hogwarts in his many battle plans. Whenever the older wizard spoke of the place, a sort of minuscule fondness entered his voice. Harry had always been curious as to what or where Hogwarts was exactly, but Tom never liked to speak of it outside of his meetings.

"Hogwarts?"

Ollivander shot him a look that made Harry feel like he had just asked whether the sky was blue. The man's eyes glittered strangely and he seemed to be reassessing the boy in front of him.

"Are you…new here, child?"

Apparently, Harry had asked something everybody should know. Why else was the ancient wizard asking him whether he was new? Harry had to come up with something. Fast.

"I'm a Squib," he lied smoothly. It was the perfect excuse. After all, the wards here suppressed his magic so he was as good as one. Maybe hanging around Tom and his smooth talking for fifteen years had its benefits. "I am new here. I've been living in the Muggle colonies but…" Harry shrugged. He left the silence for Ollivander to interpret.

Ollivander was silent for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Young men like you need something invigorating. Something new. But how, may I ask, did you pass through the Dark Lord's barricades? He keeps the Muggle areas strictly monitored. Did you get permission?"

Thank whatever gods (or god) existed out there that Tom was a magnificently well practiced in the art of lying with a smile because this strange wand seller was oddly observant.

"All Hallows Eve. It's the biggest celebration of the year and even the Dark Lord's faithful followers would not give up the chance to…relax. It wasn't simple, but I could manage to slip past them for a bit."

There was still some hesitance in the air, but the wand maker finally allowed the subject to drop. "I'm very sorry to point this out, but…"

Harry smiled sadly. "I know. I'm a Squib. It's good enough that I'm able to see magic and know it to be real."

Ollivander backed down completely after that. Harry couldn't help but acknowledge how Tom was right about Light wizards and their weakness to sentimentality. All you had to do was pull some of their heartstrings and you were as good as gold.

"I'm sorry," the old man murmured, a hint of remorse in his crazy tone.

Harry shrugged again and smiled. "It's alright. I'm used to it."

The elder wizard seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before he abruptly asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"

Harry was almost surprised to see how well his guilt trip worked. "I've just arrived in town."

"I'll contact a fellow of mine," Ollivander said. "There are actually many Squibs at Hogwarts. Perhaps he could help you."

Harry thought for a moment and then he asked, "Is that where all the children have gone?"

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes. I noticed there weren't any in town."

The wand maker smiled a little and nodded. "Hogwarts is a school of Light magic. It's the only one left in the Britain."

Harry couldn't help the grin that came to his lips. So that was why Tom loved Hogwarts so much. He had probably attended the school before he decided to take over the world and make a year old baby his Horcrux. It was almost strange to imagine the Dark Lord just another student, sitting in a classroom and studying.

"The Headmaster there would understand," Ollivander continued. "He's the Light Lord. You know of him, I presume?"

Perhaps Harry hadn't known very much about Hogwarts, but he definitely knew who the Light Lord was. Tom cursed the name too many times for him not to know.

"Dumbledore. Dumbledore is the Headmaster."

~0~

Harry couldn't help but think that some of Tom's insanity had rubbed off on him. It was the only thing that could possibly explain why he was currently sitting in a carriage pulled by pegasi in the sky towards the very man that Harry had grown up to dislike, if not hate. Harry hadn't always practiced control over Tom's soul and in his younger years, he had been susceptible to the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. Hatred for the Light Lord was prevalent and Harry had grown up with that mentality. It was difficult to shake the notion, especially with all the other wizards around him in agreement. Harry had seen some of Tom's memories regarding the old coot and he had to admit that the Light Lord was a manipulator – a damn good manipulator.

But Harry really hadn't had a choice in whether he wanted to attend Hogwarts or not. He had said he was a Squib with no place to stay and Ollivander's associate had literally given him one in one of the best institutes the Light could offer. He couldn't turn it down and avoid suspicion at the same time.

In theory, Harry shouldn't have been worried at all. His magic was suppressed and the fact that he wasn't a pile of soot proved that he wasn't completely loyal to the Dark. Dumbledore couldn't accuse him of being a spy for the Dark nor could he even attempt to associate him with it because of the very nature of the wards he himself had set. Even if Dumbledore suspected, he couldn't affirm anything without Legilimency. With Tom as his mentor for fifteen years, Harry was more than proficient with Occlumency. There was no chance that the insane grandpa would get anywhere close to his mind.

Yet Harry still worried. Maybe he wasn't loyal to the Dark, but he wasn't loyal to the Light and he certainly felt animosity towards its leader. Maybe Dumbledore would see that just through the eyes. Tom had told him countless times that his eyes were like an open book. But then again, Tom could see anybody like an open book and none of the other Death Eaters had ever been able to tell whether Harry was lying to them or not. Maybe Dumbledore wouldn't catch the flash of hatred in Harry's eyes or the wince of repulsion that would surely follow their first handshake.

Fat chance. "Maybes" were for people who didn't succeed. Harry knew Dumbledore would know. There was no point in running form that particular fact. He had to face it head on. When the time came, he had to keep his pretense up and continue as if nothing were wrong.

Harry hadn't let Tom completely control him for fifteen years. He wasn't about to let some asinine coot control him either.

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><p><strong>So this idea just popped into my head while I was writing the latest chapter for my other HP fic. It's not exactly official...I don't really know where I'm going with it. It was more like something to get off my mind and just take a small break from my other. I'm going to continue this one sporadically (or consistently...depends on my mood) even if it's just to take my mind off a writer's block. <strong>

**Some things you might want to know:**

**Voldemort is still fighting the Light. He's winning in the UK but his influence hasn't spread much further (yet). The Light is constricted to a small sector in Scotland where the barrier keeps out the Dark. **

**Any Muggles that live under Voldemort's territory are put into colonies where they labor and create food for wizards to eat and do all of the mundane tasks necessary for the foundation of a civilization. They aren't aware that magic exists. They just think a sort of new government has taken over. **

**Harry grew up as Voldemort's ward with the knowledge that he's his Horcrux. Voldemort knows it too so that's why he kept and trained Harry all those years. **

**Harry is damn good at the Dark Arts at this point. Did you think the Dark Lord would let his ward NOT be completely amazing at it after fifteen years?**

**Harry has lived a "sheltered" life (if you ignore the gory meetings and torture sessions). He has never left Riddle Manor except to visit Malfoy Manor. Voldemort wouldn't want to damage his Horcrux. A lot of Harry's apparent desire to "explore beyond the Dark" comes from being cooped up like this. **

**No, this is not a "DarkHarry turning Light after seeing the kindness of the Light side" type of thing. I dunno which side I'll put him on yet (I haven't thought that far) but it certainly won't be because of the Light's "kindness". I think that's just so cliche. He would need a lot more than that to convince him to go totally Light. After all, he WAS raised by the Dark Lord and has a part of the insane guy's soul. **

**I will bash Dumbledore. No offense, but who the heck sends a seventeen year old kid to his death "for the greater good"? **

**If you think the idea's worthless, let me know and I'll probably just trash it or post only when I'm desperately stuck with Two Sides of the Same Coin.**


	2. Slytherin is Where Bad Kids Go

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>For the rest of the trip, Harry alternated between naps and staring at the scenery below. It was an uneventful trip, but it served to loosen and relax him. Scotland really was a beautiful place. It was lush and green and the lands that they passed held no sign of human disturbance. Only nature reigned beneath and that in itself gave the place an air of frontier and mystery.<p>

When they neared their destination, a set of new robes appeared on its own accord on the seat. Harry had made sure to travel with simple brown robes of his own. The majority of his wardrobe back in the manor had been expensive and elegantly black with the telltale insignia of a silver snake coiling around the sleeves to indicate his affinity with the Dark Lord. Anybody who dared to inflict any harm upon him would receive death and only death. Harry had to actually steal the simple brown pair he had been wearing from one of the lower Death Eaters. It just wouldn't work to wander into Light territory with Tom's mark on his clothing.

The robes that had appeared in the carriage were a simple black with a gold insignia divided into four colors and "mascots". One quarter was a rich red with a lion poised to attack, another was a warm yellow with a badger, the third was a deep blue with a raven, and the last was emerald with a coiled snake. Harry shivered at the snake. It reminded him too much of Tom's symbol. He distracted himself by reading the Latin, "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus". A sleeping dragon is never to be tickled. That was the strangest school motto Harry had ever heard.

The carriage came to a stop in front of one of the largest and oldest castles Harry had ever seen. That was saying something, considering he'd been in a virtual castle his entire life. Its walls were completely made from stone. And tall towers reached towards the sky. The entrance gate itself seemed to span three times as large as the carriage and violently powerful spells fortified it. Harry could literally feel the waves of magic in the air.

A severe woman with a tall witch's hat stood in front of the iron gates. Her long robes stood a millimeter's length above the ground and she stood poised with her hands behind her back. She was neither smiling nor frowning but Harry could still see the stiffness in her spine. The woman was tense…why?

Harry pulled himself out of the carriage as two stable hands came to unharness the pegasi. He watched them for a minute, wishing the winged beings were thestrals, before he turned to see that the witch had made her way over.

"We received word of you, Mr…?"

"Evans," Harry smoothly smiled. "Harry Evans."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evans. You may call me Professor McGonagall. I am the Transfigurations teacher here. I'm sure you'll find Hogwarts much to your liking. We have separate dormitories for Squibs, but you are all Sorted, magical or not, and you can still choose to attend magical courses in addition to your standard Muggle ones." The professor's lips twitched in amusement. "You might have me as a professor if you so choose to do so."

Was that supposed to be a good thing? Because Harry had a vague unsettling feeling just listening to her. She seemed formal, but everything about her screamed Light. Being with so many Dark in his life, it was difficult to swallow her mannerisms and tone. They were miniscule changes, but Harry picked up on them. The people here spoke with higher inflictions, creating a generally happier tone, and they apparently didn't have the unsaid rule of keeping their wands ready at all times – just in case. It was so different and it was going to take some getting used to, but Harry had a feeling that once he did, he just might "take a liking to Hogwarts" as the professor put it.

As she spoke, Professor McGonagall opened the gates with the flick of her wand and led him towards a set of massive doors leading into the castle. Harry had no idea what a Sorting was or what "Muggle standards" entailed but there was no point in asking now. He would probably find out sooner rather than later.

The interior of the castle was a little drabber than Harry had expected. Its walls were a stone gray (given the walls were made of stone) and there was an immediate chill to the air. Random suits of armor dotted the entrance hall and unlit torches were placed evenly along the walls. Harry couldn't help but stare as they passed the _moving_ staircases and ran across several ghosts floating about as if they had every right to be there. Perhaps they did. Harry wouldn't know. Back at Tom's manor, ghosts were only allowed in the garden and even then only pureblood ghosts were given entry.

They paused in front of yet another set of massive doors at the top of a (unmoving) staircase where the professor turned around and said, "Mr. Evans, here at Hogwarts, there are four Houses. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and…Slytherin. I am Gryffindor's Head of House and, as thrilled as I would be to have you as part of Gryffindor, you are viable to any of the Houses."

Harry gave her a shrewd look. "Will I be choosing which House I will reside in?"

"No." It was the only answer she gave him before she spun on her heels and opened the doors.

Harry wasn't one to be shy, but he absolutely hated excess attention and crowds especially. So when hundreds of eyes turned to look at him from their respective dining tables, Harry couldn't stop the sudden rush of heat to his face. He certainly hoped he didn't look like a tomato, as Tom so elegantly put it. Harry tried to ignore the many students' eyes and followed McGonagall down the rows. Only when he neared the front did he realize that there was a separate long table overlooking the mass. Apparently, the teachers sat here because this table was the only one housing witches and wizards of age.

Harry stiffened and nearly froze when he noticed one particular person at the head table. Although he had never laid eyes on him before, Harry automatically recognized the ridiculously dressed old wizard with the annoying sparkle in his blue eyes. Ollivander hadn't been lying when he said Dumbledore was the Headmaster. A tiny part of Harry had been wishing the wand maker were pulling his leg.

Even though Harry wanted nothing more than to leave the room in revulsion, he knew all too well what a bad impression that would give. He couldn't attract the Light Lord's attention now. The way he was stiffening, he probably already did. Harry inwardly gave himself a push and continued to follow McGonagall to the small stool with an old hat sitting on top of it. Anybody watching him would have only noticed a small hesitance in his step rather than the full-blown desire to _run_. To them, he was just another nervous student.

The professor addressed the crowd, "We will be having a new student. His name is Harry Evans and he will be entering the Squib department." Harry noticed how some of the students in the crowd perked up while a much larger population automatically deflated and looked away. "Please welcome him after the Sorting."

Harry now had a vague feeling that the Sorting had to do with choosing which House he was in and the hat on the stool. If he put two and two together…oh, surely not. They wouldn't let a _hat _decide which House he belonged in, right?

When Professor McGonagall indicated for him to sit down and placed the hat on his head, covering his eyes with the wide brim. Harry was abruptly hit with a realization of how insane the Light side was. Tom was right about yet another point. Really, he had to give the Dark Lord more credit. Apparently not everything that came out of his mouth was a lie.

"_Interesting_."

Harry flinched. He had expected the hat to be enchanted to contain a certain degree of intelligence, but he didn't think it would be this sophisticated. It took a lot of power and will to put some sort of human inflection on an inanimate object.

"_Smart one, eh?"_

Harry noticed how none of the students seemed to be able to hear this conversation. So the hat was talking in his head. That didn't well with him at all. _Nothing_ got in his head. He wouldn't allow it.

"_Yet here I am,"_ the hat purred. _"Not to worry. I only see the facets of your personality, none of your secrets. I am merely looking at the bare surface of your mind. I can go no deeper."_

Harry still didn't relax. He just wanted to get this over with and this thing off his head.

"_Cautious…hostile…automatically assuming the worst and counteracting…you are incredibly brave and bright…but you're not the kindest person, are you? I see darkness in your personality and while you are righteous in many ways…there also many other areas where you lack morals that should be there. Your bravery would make you fit in Gryffindor but your self-preservation would make you an outcast. Your intelligence would make you shine in Ravenclaw, but you do not learn for learning's sake. Hufflepuff? That House is your complete opposite. No, you would not do well in the House of the kind at all."_ The hat laughed aloud and Harry tensed. _"I do not name many members of this House now. Not since the Light barrier came down." _

Harry flicked his eyes under the hat's brim over to the emptiest table and saw that it held only one-tenth of whom the other Houses had. So his house was…

"Slytherin!"

There was a frozen silence in the hall before the gazes of almost all the students turned frosty. Only the students at the Slytherin table remained amiable. The silver and green-garbed students were looking at him in astonishment and excitement.

The hat was abruptly pulled off Harry's head and he calmly made his way over to the lone table. Somewhere along the way, Harry felt a small tingle of magic and quietly noted that the crest on his robes had changed into that of an emerald snake set against a silver background and his tie had turned the same colors. He couldn't suppress the shudder that followed. It felt like he had been marked with Tom's symbol again yet it made him feel at home. He had escaped the Dark Lord, so why was such a similarity to his old life so comforting?

Only when he had settled down for a few moments did the Headmaster stand and speak, diverting the students' attention.

It was going to be a long year.

~0~

"So this is all ours?"

One of the Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, nodded. "There's not many of us so that's why it seems so big down here in the dungeons. But, to answer your question, yes. All of these are ours. You can pretty much choose any bed or room you wish."

The rest of dinner had gone without incident. The rest of the Houses were vaguely curious for a few moments after the Headmaster's speech ("Nitwit, Blubber, Tweak!"), but they quickly lost interest. Harry was supposedly just a Squib and a Slytherin. Both served to make him less than worthy of their attention, apparently.

Harry had waited until the rest of the Slytherins had calmed down as well before asking why there were so few of them. Only Blaise and another Slytherin, Astoria Greengrass, had spoken up.

"Slytherin used to be the House for Purebloods and the like. The Dark Lord was once a part of Slytherin and many of his followers were as well. With this being a Light school, there won't be many in this "Dark" House," Astoria had explained.

"Stupid, I think," Blaise had scoffed. "They claim we're selfish and devious but I think we just have self-preservation to a larger degree and cunning. It's not like we'd ever go out of our way to hurt somebody for Merlin's sake. Everybody's against us, you know? Here in Slytherin, we've got each other and only each other. Our House is alone in a pack of hungry wolves but it makes us stronger. We're probably much closer than any other."

Harry had seen that. The Slytherins didn't need to ask for a plate to be passed. It seemed like everybody knew everybody and they knew what one preferred and they passed plates without so much as a word. They were quiet, but it was a sort of quiet understanding that could only exist between close friends. It reminded Harry a lot of Riddle Manor again. Maybe their dinners had been occasionally interrupted by torture session when one follower came in to report a failure, but Harry had always eaten alone with Tom. Tom had only liked to eat with himself. They had always eaten in silence, but Harry couldn't remember a time when he had ever been uncomfortable. Wary and cautious, yes, but never uncomfortable.

"No offense," Astoria had hesitantly pointed out. "We're happy to have another member of Slytherin and all, but you're the very first Squib we've ever had and it might take some getting used to on our part. We're all accustomed to each other's having magic and you might have to deal with it for the first month or so. This is known to be house of Purebloods and the other Houses will probably point that out to us a lot."

Blaise had given him a fierce look. "We took pride – and we still do take pride – in our superiority. The other houses, especially Gryffindor, thought it came from our belief in blood hierarchy, but it's a necessity. If we believe we're better, then we are better. And we are. It's not even belief. I know it. Astoria knows it. All of Slytherin knows it. All you have to do is look at our hourglass. (Oh, the hourglass? That's what keeps track of our points. The point system? We'll explain that later.) We have the highest marks in all classes…except for Quidditch."

"Ugh," Astoria had groaned. "Only those pea-brained idiots called Gryffindors are actually good at that so called sport. It's just a way for them to show off their brawn when they can't show off their brains."

Harry had chuckled at that. He couldn't have helped it. All of them had reminded him so much of Tom and the Death Eaters that it was almost comical. Harry was grinning again as we wandered the dungeons with both Blaise and Astoria at his back again.

Blaise gave him a strange look. "What are you grinning about?"

"It's cold down here," Harry vaguely replied.

Harry could almost hear the gears turning in the other Slytherins' heads trying to figure him out. From what he had seen, Slytherin was supposed to be a sort of mini-Dark surviving in a Light environment. That meant the members of the House were supposed to ultimately be like Tom and Harry knew what that looked like all too well. If Blaise and Astoria were true Slytherins, they would pause and try to see what he was made of, assess whether he was a threat to them or not before planning their next course of action.

"Why…would you be grinning because it's cold?" Blaise asked.

Well…it was close. They had paused to think about their next action, but they hadn't come to the correct conclusion. Had Harry been in their position, he wouldn't have asked at all. He would have waited and observed to find the answer, only asking directly when he was desperate and had no other conceivable way of finding the truth. It wasn't tactical to ask so bluntly. Harry could easily give them a false answer and deem it a settled case, never revealing the truth. If they hadn't expressed interest in it, he would have eventually let down his guard on the subject and tell them in time. Now he would keep it in mind that they had already asked and gotten their answer.

Harry shrugged. "Because it's interesting."

"You're a masochist then," Astoria grinned.

Harry couldn't suppress a sigh. He had just traded one torture chamber for another.

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><p><strong>Wow, another chapter so quickly :0 So guess what that means? I have writer's block for my other HP fanfic...wonderful :l <strong>

**Anyways, I still only have a vague idea of where this is going but I've pretty much decided which side Harry's going to be on. **

******Okay, so below there's a mass of explanation regarding my story that I put in. It's mostly a lot of clarification and background so if you don't care for that stuff, skip it. If you ARE interested, then go right ahead!**

**No, Draco and his lovely bodyguards aren't at Hogwarts. Remember that the UK wizarding society is split (both physically and figuratively) between the Light and the Dark. Draco and his goons CAN'T be at Hogwarts because it's in Light territory and Draco's father (as well as Crabbe's and Goyle's) are part of Voldemort's inner circle so they would, of course, be in the Dark territory learning Dark things :)**

**And I forgot to mention this before, but Voldemort was never vanquished. (But I'm pretty sure you were all intelligent enough to figure that out already.) He did initially go to kill Harry because of the prophecy and yada yada, but when he killed James and Lily and went on to kill Harry, he dodged the rebounding Killing Curse he sent Harry's way and quickly deduced that Harry could possibly be a Horcrux after feeling a burning feeling. (Hey, if Voldemort was really as badass a they claimed him to be, he should have been able to dodge. Plus he's a supposed genius so he should have figured out that Harry was a possible Horcrux. That and the combination of PAINFULLY SPLITTING HIS SOUL would alert him to something. So he took Harry back, did a few tests, and then took Harry in.)**

**Does Harry hate Voldemort for killing his parents. Duh. Of course he did. But notice how I put "did". He spent the majority of his childhood hating him but he eventually accepted the loss and moved on. No, he didn't just let it go (who could?) but he came to conclusion that he can't do anything else about it. There's also a lot more that changed Harry's mind but that would just be ruining the story, wouldn't it? All that plus the fact that a part of Tom's soul is HIS soul so it would technically be like hating himself.**

**Harry is showing signs of missing his old life, or at least searching for it as a source of familiarity. Of course I made it that way :) He's lived like that all his life and such an abrupt change would be weird for anybody. That, and maybe he just misses a place he won't admit is home... **


	3. When Lady Luck Pulls a Fast One on You

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

***** Bold** = Parseltongue

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><p><em>Harry poked his small head through a crack in the massive mahogany doors barring entrance into Tom's private library. The doors had been locked with spells only the Dark Lord knew how to pass so, naturally, Harry easily canceled them. He searched the interior tentatively. What if Tom was already inside? The older wizard had specifically instructed his ward against any sort of entry into the private library. Harry knew punishment would quickly follow if he were caught.<em>

_A part of him was screaming to leave. Harry knew how painful it could get when he got Tom angry. The man was beyond sadistic. It made no logical sense to disobey and suffer. Harry __knew__ this. Yet here he was. The lure of Dark magic had become too much. It was true that Harry could perform Dark spells many wizards five times his age couldn't. But that was all Tom's soul. Selective random spurts of knowledge and power came easily because a part of Tom's soul knew the immediate answers from a memory imprinted into it. Harry breezed through those, but had no basic knowledge. Even with Tom's soul, Harry hadn't known the simplest thing about magic. _

_And he so badly wanted to know. He wanted to be able to control the magic on his own, mold it according to his will and not jus Tom's. He wanted to understand and create rather than spit things out like a parrot. Dark magic, specifically, called out to him and he wanted to answer that call. Harry was already advanced in his lessons on Charms, Transfiguration, and everything else but the one magic that sang to him like a Siren's Song. _

_He had held out for a week. Now Harry knew that not even the idea of torture was going to be enough to deter him. _

_When Harry saw nobody in sight, he quickly dashed inside and closed the door behind him. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he searched the library. Tom being Tom, Harry knew everything would be neatly categorized and shelved. Harry attempted a Summoning Spell first but immediately abandoned the attempt. Tom was too clever for that. So he ran between stacks upon stacks of bookshelves and up and down the two floors of the room. Harry was beginning to panic when he finally stumbled upon the section he had been looking for. He let out a sight of relief, reached for one book, and froze as a cold grip kept him in place. _

_Tom had found him. _

_Overwhelming panic bloomed in Harry's chest and he couldn't help but shudder knowing Tom would feel his guilt and fear through their connection. Harry knew the Dark Lord hated weak emotions. _

"_What do we have here?" a silky voice breathed into his ear. "Is this a lost little snake I've found?"_

_Harry struggled to keep his face impassive and controlled. He very nearly flinched as Tom dug his nails into his arm, drawing blood. _

"_**Answer me."**_

"_**Yes, my Lord," **__Harry whispered hoarsely. _

_He literally heard Tom's smirk as he detached his fingers from Harry's now-bleeding arm and stepped away. Something about Parseltongue always managed to mollify the man. _

"_**Sit."**_

_Harry desperately didn't want to turn around and face his guardian, but he knew he had to. He slowly spun on his heels and saw Tom already seated at a table carved from the same mahogany as the entrance doors. The Dark Lord's long, black hair hung a past his lithe shoulders and a handsomely aristocratic face looked back at him. Tom was incredibly handsome. Even Harry could see that. It was no wonder why women always fell for his charm. The only things that served to show the man's malevolent streak were his crimson eyes that shone deeper than the blood he so loved to spill. _

_Harry settled into the seat directly across from his guardian's and quietly sat there, holding the other's gaze without flinching. He might have been terrified and completely stiff from fear, but he wasn't about to let it show. He was too stubborn for that. He had to live with Tom's soul and he felt like if he could manage the man's soul, then he should be able to manage the man himself. At least, to a certain degree. _

"_**It's a lovely day today."**_

_What did Tom want? He hated pleasantries. Harry knew from how many times the Dark Lord punished those who tried to have any sort of conversation with him. The only person Tom tolerated was Harry and he knew it. That was why the man was toying with him right now, making him as tense as possible before allowing him to relax. That way, the rebound would just hurt all the more. _

_But not all conversation was this harsh with Tom. Harry knew he was treated differently. He knew that when he teased the Dark Lord and got away with only a Stinging Hex, he was receiving Tom's affections…in the man's own twisted way. Harry constantly had to catch himself from thinking those actions near anything __affectionate__. That was one word that never fit with Tom. It never would. _

"_**The sun is out,"**__ Harry replied. __**"It's a pity it will only serve to burn you like the vampire you are."**_

_Tom's eyes glittered dangerously and, for a moment, Harry thought that perhaps their normal jibes weren't fit for the occasion. Then he relaxed as his guardian smirked. __**"It does not burn me and you know that. I am merely wary of stunning the general public with my overwhelming presence."**_

_Harry snorted in spite of himself. He was still cautious and worried about the sure punishment to come, but he couldn't help but fall into their normal rhythm. __**"I daresay your bloated ego is a threat to the general public."**_

_Tom chuckled darkly before falling silent, all traces of geniality gone. __**"But with such a lovely day as this…it makes me wonder what you would be doing **__**here**__** of all places when you could be basking under this wonderful sun you so politely mentioned?"**_

_Harry had to be careful now. Whatever he said next had to please Tom to an extent or he would fall into one of his terrible temper fits. __**"I've found the light from the sun a bit…bright for my tastes. Perhaps an after effect of being around you too much."**_

_When Tom didn't immediately hiss a torture spell, Harry knew he had said something right. He had been aiming to subtly insinuate his desire to learn more about the Dark Arts and attribute his curiosity to Tom in those couple of sentences. He wanted to stroke Tom's constant desire for control and influence as well as appeal to the man's excitement with the Dark. Harry could only hope that his guardian's prolonged silence did not bode an even worse punishment. _

"_You are learning," Tom drawled, back to English. "Such an eloquent tongue you have on you, Harry."_

_Harry tried not to sag with relief. Being around Tom could be taxing. His nerves were constantly taut and he always had to be at his best otherwise the man would catch the smallest slip of his tongue. It was tiring and definitely not good for his health. It also gave Harry a sort of dangerous thrill that was almost addicting. _

_But no, Harry wouldn't let this control his life. He wanted to be in control of his own life – Dark Lord's soul connected to him or not._

_Tom stood up from his seat but Harry knew better than to follow suit. The man hadn't given him permission. The Dark Lord slowly made his way around Harry like predator assessing his prey. His heads were folded neatly behind his back, but Harry knew that was all show. The man was by no means quietly taking this. Harry tried not to worry about what Tom could be thinking. That was exactly what his guardian wanted. He was waiting this out, playing with Harry's mind to his liking. _

_Finally – __finally__ – Harry heard Tom's footsteps stop just behind him and felt long, elegant fingers caressing his jawline from behind. They were gentle, nothing like they had been before. Harry felt a strange tingling on his arm and realized that Tom had just healed whatever injury he had inflicted earlier. _

"_You're such a precocious child, Harry. It just makes me want to __crush__ you sometimes. But you are entertaining in your own right. I admire that. I admire…the traits in you. The ones that remind me of myself."_

_The Dark Lord was teasing him. Of course he admired Harry's traits. They were, after all, his own. _

"_But you have pleased me today. Seeking out information about the Dark Arts of your own accord…I never thought you would shake off those disgusting Potter genes of yours." _

_Harry couldn't help the flash of hatred. "I haven't shaken off anything, Tom. You're just such a big-headed prat that you can't get over yourself."_

_The grip on Harry's jaw tightened. "I take back my words on your eloquence, Harry. Tsk, tsk. Still so much to learn." Tom abruptly pulled Harry's face towards his own. Emerald eyes stared down crimson, two opposite colors, neither relenting. After a long moment, Tom withdrew and a small, amused smile graced his lips. "You have a strong spirit. And such power…you don't know. I am pleased with your decision, Harry." His eyes glittered brilliantly, planning. "I could…reveal so many things. If only you had just asked to begin with."_

_Harry felt sick. As much as he wanted to pull away now, he knew Tom wouldn't let him and he still couldn't quell his curiosity. Damn Dark magic. _

_Harry moved to stand up from his chair only to find Tom's yew wand poised at his throat. How the man moved so quickly and soundlessly Harry couldn't fathom. _

"_Now, now…as pleased as I am, I do recall saying just how off limits my private library is. It seems like a punishment is in order…"_

~0~

Harry woke up gasping. Only when he finally realized that he was lying in a four-poster bed in Hogwarts's dungeons did his heart finally stop hammering in his chest. It took him a few minutes before his breathing finally calmed and he could coherently think again. Sweat soaked the bed and he shivered from the chill.

He had been eight in that memory when the lure of Dark magic was still fresh and uncontrollable. It made Harry shudder at the feeling. He knew he was still undeniably drawn towards the Darker Arts but he actually had a hold on his desire to explore it. He had to learn how. When he had begun to ignore sleep and meals in favor of reading through Tom's private library, his guardian had locked him away until he finally learned how to keep a hold on his desire. The magic had just been so powerful and seductive. Harry didn't like to admit it, but without Tom there to control him, he probably would have delved too far and lost any semblance of his old self. It constricted his heart to remember that. Tom had been the only one there for him during that time and it was eerily comforting to him.

It had probably just been the Dark Lord playing with his Horcrux again.

But why had he dreamed that particular dream, that memory? Was it a reminder? Was it something to prove just how out of place he was here? He was almost completely positive that nobody in the Light territory, not even the Slytherins, knew the true lure and power of the Dark. It was just too forbidden here and there was no influence here to show them. A part of Harry was jealous of their blissful ignorance but another part pitied them for never knowing the true extents that magic could reach.

It was a good thing he had his own room, away from the other boys. He had initially thought it rather annoying to be separated because of his Squib status. Now that he was away from the others, he wouldn't be able to listen to their rumors and their gossip threads. He was adept at collecting and using that sort of information but he couldn't do anything if that information wasn't even available to him in the first place. But now that he couldn't use his magic to place Silencing Charms on his drapes, having his own room would allow him to squirm as much as he liked in his sleep without alerting anybody else in his House. They might have been muted versions of the people he once knew, but they would still take advantage of any weakness he showed.

Harry shakily pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. This was going to drive him insane. He had escaped Tom's clutches for a reason. Perhaps he hadn't been _suffering_, per se, but he had felt so trapped. He wanted more out of his life and he knew he wouldn't get it by staying with Tom. The man, as twisted as he was, had still been his guardian for fifteen years. They had their own insane moments together. Rare moments, but moments all the same.

But it wasn't worth it. Harry had to leave. He had to carve his own road in life. And he knew he was more than capable of doing it. Maybe he wasn't at Tom's level yet, but he was damn close. He had been raised by the man for Merlin's sake.

A small smile touched Harry's lips. All he had to was focus on the here and now. He was at Hogwarts with a whole House (given, a small House) filled with pliable minds. They were open to any sort of small deviation form Light ideals and Harry could use that.

Harry had never said he left the Dark to get away from the Dark. He had only left to escape the restraints that had chained him down. He thought he had been free to do as he wished once he crossed Tom's wards. Now he knew he couldn't have a simple life. He had gotten too much attention already. It seemed like Lady Luck had pulled a fast one on him.

It didn't matter. If he couldn't get what he wanted, then he might as well enjoy whatever he had been given to the best that he could.

Dumbledore wasn't even going to recognize his own school by the time Harry was done with it.

~0~

Lord Voldemort wanted to hurt somebody. Anybody. That unfortunate "anybody" just happened to be Pettigrew at the moment. The Dark Lord watched with detached fascination at the puny man's writhing body. It normally pleased him to see his servants suffering under his hands, but now nothing was good enough to please him. Nothing.

Harry was gone.

Voldemort had honestly thought the possibility of the boy's escape had been extinguished. The child had been doing so well, excelling in the ranks and becoming so deliciously powerful. Whenever he watched his charge fight, it so fiercely reminded him of himself that he couldn't help but be pleased. Yet the boy also had his own flair, his own brilliance to it all and maybe that was why Voldemort was so possessive. There was no denying the fact that Harry was a genius when it came to the Dark Arts. The Dark Lord's soul had little to do with it anymore. It only served to give the boy occasional bursts of power when he was desperate for it. Those moments were rare, however, and most of the child's excellence came from his own curiosity and fascination with the magic. The boy was powerful enough in all of his other subjects, but he had an addiction to Dark magic's lure.

Voldemort could only relate all too well. The only thing he could question now was whether that fascination truly came from the boy himself or from the soul fragment he carried.

The boy had been so successful, so brilliant Voldemort had actually let his guard down. He never visibly showed it, of course, but he had been…_pleased_ nevertheless.

But that small indulgence had gone back and bitten him. Now the boy was gone and Voldemort couldn't help but feel inexplicably furious with the world and, oddly, himself.

If Voldemort had stopped to calm himself down, he might have noticed that he never once thought of his young charge as anything other than just Harry.

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><p><strong>Just a heads up, this is definitely NOT a slash between Harry and Voldemort. You can probably tell that I'm aiming more for the whole mentor feel. <strong>

**Perhaps Voldemort is sort of OC but it's just the way I like it. I've always seen too many similarities between the two and it just makes me wish that Voldemort hadn't been as crazy (or ugly). Maybe that way, he could actually see the value in such a similarity with another. **

**And thanks so much to my reviewers! It's always nice to hear feedback :)**


	4. The Perfect Recipe for Disaster

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>There was something strange about the new kid. Blaise couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was, but there was something different about Harry Evans.<p>

Blaise's parents weren't exactly the kindest of the bunch. They actually rather prided themselves with the fact that they were the Darker kind of Light. Blaise had grown up with that mentality and now he couldn't imagine his family any other way. They weren't saints and they did not think any lower of themselves if they ever bribed or lied or used somebody or something. It wasn't above them to use the people around them like pieces on a chessboard. It wasn't difficult to conclude that the Zabinis were on the darker side of the Light.

Yet, despite all of his experience with a less-than-moral life, Blaise knew that his family was nowhere near the level that the Dark had fallen to. His grandparents had initially supported and followed the Dark Lord before the Light barrier had gone up. They saw the grand vision that You-Know-Who had portrayed and firmly entrenched themselves in the cause. But Blaise's grandparents had had Light friends before they had decided to follow the Dark Lord and that had made all the difference. Their Light friends brought them back to their senses and they managed to escape the Dark's clutches just before the Light barrier had been erected. The Zabinis were not as rich or as influential as they had once been, but they were now free of the Dark's control and protected. Blaise had no doubt that if the Light barrier ever fell, his family would be one of the first targets. Betrayal, he had heard, was something the Dark Lord didn't tolerate.

Blaise's family wasn't the one to be in the situation. In fact, everybody in the Slytherin house came from the similar, if not the exact same, situation. All of them were Purebloods from an old and prestigious line that had once been desperate for their redemption by You-Know-Who's side. They had been strong, powerful, and Dark or, at the very least, Grey. All of their families had welcomed a more peaceful life within the Light boundaries, but redemption had come with a price. They were no longer trusted confidentials of those in power and they no longer had quite the influence or wealth that had garnered under the Dark. They had to repress their Dark magic as much as they could. It would be difficult, but they had sworn to only use Light magic in return for protection and haven. Over the next generations, their children would gain more affinity for Light and their Dark tendencies would cease to exist. They would gain their power and influence back, but only after they endured the switch from Dark to Light, which was a far more difficult process than turning Light to Dark.

Blaise understood all of that. And while he wasn't happy about future generations losing any sort of affinity towards the Dark, he knew that this was the best way. He had grown up trying to only use Light, but his parents' defection to the Dark had passed on to him and he couldn't help but sometimes give into his angry tendencies and exact revenge upon any of the other Light children at Hogwarts. He knew that he had to outgrow the Dark, but sometimes it was just so alluring he couldn't ignore it. He didn't want that for his children. He didn't want them to walk down the halls with accusing eyes constantly glaring them down and scoffing at their taint. He would miss the Dark, but all it could ever offer was pain and evil. Light was the only way to go now.

This mentality had been pounded into his head over and over, year after year. He had accepted it and gone forward. But something about Harry Evans was pushing him off-balance.

He had known the new kid for a grand total of twelve hours and had had only one conversation with him. The Fifth Year newcomer was, by all means, allegedly a blotch on the Slytherin record of a completely Pureblood household and he couldn't produce one spark of magic because he was the greatest shame of all magical shames, a Squib. Not even a Muggle could be worse. At least Muggles didn't have a chance of magic in their veins. Squibs had every chance but they merely had the unfortunate luck to be born without magic. It was the ultimate shame. Not even the goody Light Gryffindors could stand the sight of one. Squibs were pitiful beings born into a world of magic with none of their own. In a way, Blaise was rather pleased with the still-obvious rift between the two and he felt that they were being more than generous in their acceptance of Squibs into the school.

So in all accounts, Blaise should have despised Harry and shunned him. Everybody in the Slytherin House should have. But when they had heard the Sorting Hat's declaration, they couldn't help but feel a slight jolt of elation. They had gone for so long without another addition to their House that they had begun to fear the extinction of Slytherin. The decreasing amount of Dark in students had been becoming evident. The majority of Slytherins were older Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years. There were only about thirty First, Second, and Third Year Slytherins in total. Harry might have been a Fifth year, but they were happy to hear it. They would despise him later, but the novelty of a new member would last for at least a few weeks.

But it was deeper still. There something about Harry that just didn't work with the rest of them there. The Slytherins might have been out of place, but Harry was just cut from completely different cloth. Blaise didn't know what prompted him to think so. The boy was his age and nothing spectacular. He might have been a little more on the attractive side with his dark, messy hair, striking emerald eyes, and (oddly enough) aristocratic features, but that was the only thing that truly stood out. Harry walked with neither too much confidence nor too much timidity. He spoke only when he had to and Blaise could sense none of the typical Slytherin desire for power or manipulation. All in all, Harry Evans was seemingly normal.

That was what frustrated Blaise so much. There was _something_ about Evans, but he just couldn't figure out what it was. It was rare that anything kept him awake at night, but the new kid had stirred something within him. His Darkness had been a little more restless the entire night and he had a strange idea that it had something to do with the newcomer. The only consolation he had was that he wasn't the one affected. He knew Astoria Greengrass had felt it too. That was why the two of them had spoken to the Squib at all. The rest of the House must have felt it as well, but they had not been sitting beside Harry during dinner and therefore had not had the same experience of directly interacting with the newest member.

Whatever it was, Blaise certainly didn't plan on overthinking it. He had spent one sleepless night too many on the Squib. Starting tomorrow, he would no longer plague his mind over it. He was a Slytherin and he knew better than to attach himself to anything that might prove detrimental to his future success.

~0~

Harry's very first day as a Slytherin Squib had been far milder than he had initially thought it would be. He knew people more inclined towards the Dark were viciously prejudiced, but he had been almost disappointed to see that nobody from the Slytherin House had so much as glanced in his direction the entire day. He supposed that the disinterested air about them could have been an attempt at contempt, but he knew the difference between intentional silence and just plain indifference. They couldn't have cared less about him. They weren't going to single him out for his lack of magic nor ostracize him. They accepted him, in a way, just not into their inner circles of deeper understanding. They treated him like they would have treated a stranger: polite, considerate, and detached.

It was so pathetically Grey. Not even. He had actually overestimated the Slytherin House. They weren't even Grey, in fact, just a severely watered down Light. That would be no fun. He had expected at least some of them to be harsher, but none of them were. It was like the Light had drained the life out of them. Harry knew what it was like to suppress Darkness and it was evident that they had been suppressing theirs for so long that they couldn't even recognize the Dark for what it truly was anymore. Harry could only fathom such a blatant disregard for their magical core's well being came from the need to adapt in the Light conditions that they lived in.

It made Harry sick.

Not even Blaise or Astoria had bothered to talk to him in the morning. He had thought that maybe they would say something about his complete lack of magic but they had only done the same as the rest. Maybe Harry had been reduced to a masochist during his time under Tom's influence, but he had been expecting and almost anticipating the prejudice. He had dealt with prejudice before and he knew how to use it to his advantage and ultimately crush those who dared to speak badly of him. Now he wouldn't have that fun dance of ideals. The Slytherins, Harry realized, might have been completely different from the moral population that occupied the majority of the school, but they were still barely worth any Dark attribution. They were trained snakes with all the poison gone from whatever chipped fangs they had left.

Harry had come to see that there was a dominant hierarchy of legitimate wizards and witches who avoided the "non-magicals". They might eat and walk in the same halls, but there was an undeniable rift between the two. On his first day, Harry studied Muggle subjects and theories. Witches and Wizards studied how to control their magic. Harry slept in separate rooms with, despite everybody's unwillingness to admit it, lower-quality accommodations. Squibs typically had a simple bed with white sheets and pillows in the color of their respective House. Wizards and witches had four-poster beds with drapes and elegantly styled bedspreads and sheets of emerald and silver. Harry was lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to be the only wizard in Slytherin so he had he Squib bathrooms to himself as well as a more luxurious bedroom with all of the extra space in the Slytherin dormitories. The other Squibs in the other Houses apparently had to share the one bathroom while the witches and wizards had one per Year. Harry had only gotten to choose from the dormitories furthest away from the windows offering views or the furthest from the entrances to the main arteries of the school despite Blaise's statement about being able to choose whichever room he wished. When the Squibs ate in the Great Hall, they sat furthest away from the professors' eating table at the front and crowded themselves towards the very back and edges. In short, even the Light had their prejudices veiled behind a thin cloak of kindness and apparent opportunity for non-magicals.

Harry wasn't complaining. He could have cared less whether his bed had been simple and the bathroom shared. He was used to a pampered lifestyle, but his training had been harsh and he had to endure much worse than simple accommodations.

Harry had to admit that he had sulked for the majority of the day. The Muggle subjects had been complete gibberish to him and the prospect of actually being behind in those classes irked him. His House's lack of hostility had just added to his bad mood and he had quickly discovered that it was best to avoid any contact with the other Houses' witches and wizards for now. They only jeered and laughed at him because he was a combination of the things they despised most. It was only the first day, but one particularly annoying Fifth Year Gryffindor wizard with revoltingly red hair had nearly caused him to lose control and lash out. Harry wasn't helpless – far from it. He had already stated it once: he didn't need a wand to defeat a wizard. It was only a matter of controlling himself. As safe as he was now from suspicion, he knew that just one slip-up would probably destroy all of that. If they knew he could retaliate, then he would just be more of a target. Harry had actually been looking forward to a kind welcoming from the Light side. It would have been a pleasant change from the frigid atmosphere in the Dark. Some form of compassion or brightness wouldn't have hurt and it made Harry a little sad to see that almost nothing had changed from one side to another.

It was only during dinner that his day took a turn for the better. He had just finished a Muggle class called Literature where they had to read books and write essays analyzing the themes and motives within the novels. It would have been a relatively easy class if he had known what "similes" and "metaphors" were. Only after the teacher explained it to him privately after class did he understand. It had been rather humiliating. The end result was his currently heightened sulky mood and thirst for some sort of outlet.

He settled down at the furthest edge of the table with all the wrath of his irritation and promptly subjugated a large piece of chicken to a beating with his knife and fork. He had to act his Squib part but that didn't keep him from torturing his meal. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction to see his chicken in bits scattered around his plate. Harry sighed. It was only the first day and he was already cracking. How pitiable. Tom would be disappointed.

"Bad first day?"

Harry snapped his head up and saw Blaise's dark brown eyes scrutinizing his decimated meal. He couldn't help but smile a little in silent victory. Somebody was finally talking to him without the regular insults. Even Blaise's earlier aloofness in the morning had seemingly vanished. The way the other boy sat comfortably with his palms held open on the table indicated that this was a more casual conversation.

"A little," Harry grinned tiredly.

Blaise chuckled. "It's expected."

Harry sighed and poked at the chicken again. He waited for a few moments to test how far the other Slytherin was willing to carry this conversation. Blaise had sat down at the edge of the table where Squibs normally sat and away from his rightful position further up where Fifth Year wizards ate. He wouldn't just sit down here and have no ulterior motive. It was either that, or Harry was overestimating Slytherin House again.

Finally, the other Slytherin cleared his throat and placed a piece of chicken on his own plate. So he was here to stay for the remainder of the meal. Interesting.

"Are you going to attend the magical classes tomorrow?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure it's going to be more interesting than Literature and Mathematics."

"Litteradure and Madamadics?"

That pulled a grin on to Harry's face. "Never mind."

Blaise seemed to scrutinize him for a moment before he blurted, "I'm not so sure you should take magical classes."

Ah. Was this the prejudice Harry had been expecting?

"Why?"

"The other Houses won't like it," Blaise promptly said. "They'll ridicule you. They'll take advantage of your…disadvantage. What can you gain from going to one of those classes anyway?"

That was well worded. He was using the other Houses' hostility as a mask over the true purpose of this conversation. "I might not be able to perform magic, Blaise, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy learning about it. What's wrong with a Squib just learning about magic? I'm sure you understand. After all, Slytherin sticks up for its own and its so much more advanced than the other Houses that their opinion doesn't matter anyway. If it doesn't matter to the House, then why should it bother me? I'll be fine. I must thank you for your concern, though."

If Harry looked closely enough, he could see Blaise's left eye twitch the smallest bit before he replied. "But you are our first Squib. How do you know you'll be alright?"

"There are other Squibs here," Harry dismissed. "Surely some of them take the magical classes."

"The Squibs don't take the magical classes despite the opportunity. They place their efforts into something they can benefit from."

Harry smiled pleasantly. This was mildly fun. It was almost half as interesting as one of his conversations with Tom. "Then I won't be afraid to be the first. It would benefit me, after all, to know the theory behind the magic all of you practice. If I'm to live in a world with so many gifted, then I should learn about those gifts."

Blaise saw he was taking the wrong approach and he quickly changed the subject. "I don't think you'll want to see us when we do magic. We are…a little more vicious than the other Houses, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But you won't do any Dark magic. It's just defense. You will only be Light magic."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "You don't know that, Harry."

Was that a challenge? That last sentence had certainly seemed a little more on the threatening side than the trend had been for the conversation. Harry grinned a little wider and subtly stretched his magic to taste Blaise's own. He couldn't use the magic in a spell right now, but using it to sense his surroundings was such a primal use that he could do so even under the Light barrier. The other Slytherin's magic was…dull. Ill. It was essentially Dark, but the lack of use was slowly killing it and making room for different magic, Light magic, to worm its way in. Harry almost scowled at such a waste of potential and realized that the magic was being suppressed not out of habit or situation, but out of voluntary decision.

Overwhelming anger turned Harry's vision red. He finally understood. This wasn't Dark adaptation at all. This was a purge. This was a complete destruction of many Dark legacies that could continue and become great. There was a common misconception about the Light and Dark. True, the Dark often brought sadistic bastards to their side, but it wasn't rooted in evil. There were those strong enough to conquer the allure and use Dark magic to their will. It just so happened to be that those few select strong enough with a Dark core were power-hungry megalomaniacs. In some ways, Dumbledore could be described as a power-hungry megalomaniac with the façade of morality backing him up. Or maybe that was just Harry's biased hatred for the man acting up again. Either way, it seemed like Blaise was purposely starving his Dark magic probably because he had the idea that Dark magic was evil and had to be avoided at all costs. It was more than likely that the rest of the Slytherin House was doing the exact same thing.

Harry couldn't let this continue. The reason why he had been so close to cracking his very first day was because he hadn't had a clear goal in his mind yet. Sure, he had decided to play with whatever was here but that had been a vague idea. Now he knew what he wanted to do and it was challenging enough to keep him occupied for quite a while. Harry glanced over at the other Squibs morosely staring at their plates with thin smiles at the other tables and realized that he had two potential projects on his hands.

The goals bloomed in his mind and he had to suppress a wicked smile from erupting over his face. Shunned Squibs starving for recognition and a suppressed Slytherin House just begging to release their Dark magic? The Light had just created its own recipe for disaster. Harry would just be the catalyst to make it all happen. Perhaps this way, he would be able to give himself both entertainment and maybe even real friends.

"Hey, Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Harry looked back into Blaise's eyes and saw just how much he was hiding his true nature, his true magic. If he hadn't been sulking all day, he probably would have noticed it sooner. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just wondering if you were okay. You sort of blanked out for a moment there."

Harry gave the other Slytherin his most brilliant smile and answered, "I'm perfectly fine, Blaise. Everything is just perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>Yay, finally another chapter :) This really does help me take my mind off things. <strong>

**Just in case you're curious, here's a vague timeline of what happened:**

**1) Tom Riddle attends Hogwarts, making allies as he goes. **

**2) Tom makes his debut as Dark Lord Voldemort on his first raid. **

**3) Voldemort amasses followers over a course of about twelve years as well as taking over the Ministry of Magic. (It may not be accurate according to the original storyline but I didn't actually memorize the exact # of years so that was just a rough estimate since I did say that Blaise's grandparents were the ones to get to know Tom [in his Hogwarts years, mind you] and they had his parents sometime a little before Tom makes his debut so it has to be a at least a decade because his parents need to be old enough to have him a little after the Light barrier went up.) **

**4) The Light barrier is erected by Light Lord Dumbledore which protects all Light witches and wizards left as well as refugees from the Dark side. **

**5) Voldemort kills Lily and James Potter (for reasons I'll mention later) and takes Harry as his Horcrux during a raid on Godric's Hollow (which failed to be included in the Light barrier during July 31st for reasons I'll mention later). **

**6) The Dark refugees agree to only use Light magic under the Light's protection. **

**7) Harry escapes the Dark and goes to the Light fourteen years later. **


	5. It's a Pity You're Magically Deficient

**I do not own Harry Potter. **

* * *

><p>Harry quietly fingered his quill and scribbled the last words of his essay upon the piece of parchment in front of him. It had taken quite a bit of research through the Muggle library, but now he had officially written his first essay for Literature class. He was confident that it would receive a passing grade at the very least. Harry grinned at the thought at carefully rolled up his parchment to turn in.<p>

A warm sense of contentment settled itself down in Harry's chest. A completed assignment meant less stress later and that sense of efficiency and forethought was now habit thanks to Tom. Harry picked up his bag, filled with completed homework, and made his way through the hallways towards his first magical class of the year: Transfiguration.

Harry knew that his first magical class wouldn't be fun. He had to act his part and since he was the only Muggle there, he would most likely be under intense prejudice and scrutiny. He would face jeers and insults on a much harsher level now. So far, he had only been teased from the hallways by passing students. The Squibs had been morosely silent and unsociable during classes. The only form of civil contact had been with his Housemates. Now he was literally walking into a den of Lions hungry for new meat. Harry had seen it in their eyes. He was both a target and an eyesore to them. Something to be eradicated for the sake of _justice_.

Harry's fingers twitched with irritation but he quickly stifled it. There was no use in letting his emotions get ahold of him now. Hadn't Tom always told him that emotions were useless when planning? The best thing to do right now was focus on his goal.

Harry snapped back to reality when he felt scores of eyes turning his direction as he stepped into the Transfiguration class. He felt heat rise to his cheeks just as it had during his Sorting, but he pointedly ignored their stares and selected a seat in the center of the room. He couldn't sit in the back (no matter how much he wanted to) because that would label him shy, a target. He couldn't sit in the front either because that would seem a blatant declaration of his own superiority and the rest of the class was see it as a challenge. So all he could do for now was sit in the center and see how many people would dare breach a three-seat radius around him, the Squib.

The eyes gradually lost interest in him. Harry took the chance to subtly notice that half of the students in the classroom wore gold and red ties. The other half wore ties of silver and green as he did. He didn't miss the fact that there was a clear division in the class between the two. It was as obvious as day with the colors organized into their own corners. The Gryffindors seated themselves on the right while the Slytherins patiently waited on the left. Neither side spoke with the other. They didn't spare each other even the smallest of glances.

Harry couldn't help a rueful grin to himself when he realized that he was sitting right on the line of neutrality. He was sitting in an area that literally divided the two enemy houses.

Harry noticed Blaise and Astoria enter the classroom and briefly wondered if they would actually sit next to him. A part of him desperately wanted them to. He didn't want to be the strange one in the middle. He didn't _want_ to be alone. That was why he had come to the Light in the first place, right? He had wanted something different. Yet this was already beginning to look like his old life where people gave him a wide berth because of who and what he was.

Harry shoved that thought aside as the other two settled among the other Slytherins on the left side of the room. A small pit of sadness lodged itself into his stomach and it didn't seem to be able to go away no matter what he did to ignore it. He struggled with himself for a bit before he finally gave up on the attempt. He would just deal with that strange feeling (sadness?) for now. A tendril of anger towards them darkened his expression. Oh, he would get them back for this. True, it wasn't like they were actually his friends and they didn't actually have an obligation to sit next to him, but Harry felt still felt slighted. A small voice in his head told him that maybe he should just let it go. A larger part of him was already plotting his revenge.

Suddenly, Harry heard the sound of hurried footsteps clambering into the room. He heard heavy breathing and a taste of tension had mingled with the air. Harry couldn't decipher what could cause such a panicked rush. It was really unbecoming to arrive charging into the first Transfigurations class of the year.

Then he recognized the time. He had been so busy trying to quell his emotions that he had lost track of it; class was supposed to have started a good ten minutes ago. Somebody was late.

Harry turned around with the rest of the class to see that it was the annoying red-haired boy who had come scrambling in. He couldn't help but feel a touch of vindictive glee at the student's panicked face. The Gryffindor had been, by far, the most vocal of his dissenters and Harry thought that his tardiness was karma's nice touch. The boy might look relieved now with no professor yet in sight, but Harry knew better. He had known, right from the start, that the tabby cat sitting on the instructor's desk was an Animagus. Who else could the shape-shifter be but the Transfigurations teacher?

The tardy Gryffindor let out a sigh of relief. "McGonagall isn't here yet!"

"That's _Professor_ McGonagall to you, Mr. Weasley," a familiar stern voice snapped from the front of the classroom.

The boy, Weasley, noticeably paled and looked in astonishment at the Scottish woman now standing in place of the tabby cat. "Professor…you're a cat!"

McGonagall seemed tempted to roll her eyes as she replied, "I am an _Animagus_, Mr. Weasley. It is a topic I will be mentioning this year if I find the time…hopefully, my lessons will no longer be stalled by students who cannot arrive promptly."

Weasley blushed. "But-but, professor – "

"Why are you late, Mr. Weasley?"

The ginger flushed darker and muttered something under his breath.

"I'd like to actually hear you, Mr. Weasley."

The boy's cheeks suddenly matched his hair and he blurted, "Somebody locked me in the bathroom!"

Harry had to struggle to keep in an undignified snort of amusement. He could already imagine such a delightful scene. He would have liked to hear the boy's desperate shouts as he pounded his fists against the bathroom stall in an effort to escape the yawning expanse of a toilet bowl. It would have been hilarious. Harry would have to congratulate whoever locked the door.

"I've heard many excuses in my lifetime, Mr. Weasley. I will see you for detention tonight at six."

A panicked look crossed the Gryffindor's face and he spluttered, "But…that's dinner time!"

"I expect to see you, Mr. Weasley."

The boy might have been as dull as a doorpost, but even he knew better than to argue any further. The professor wasn't going to budge on her position. The Weasley scowled darkly and settled down in a seat on the right side of the room. Harry smirked. Maybe this Light woman who had picked him up at the school gates wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I expect all of you to use Mr. Weasley as an example. My expectations are high and I would certainly hope that, as Fifth Years, you know how to navigate yourself properly around the school campus." She paused and gave the entire class a piercing look. "All of you are aware of the nature of Transfigurations. I expect all of you to respect it."

The remainder of the first half of class involved a lecture about the many uses of conjuring and an additional ten points gone from Gryffindor when the Weasley was caught doodling on his piece of parchment. Harry, for the most part, ignored the lecture completely and carefully watched the wizards around him. He already had a decent idea of Slytherin's social hierarchy and how it worked. The Gryffindors were another thing altogether. They were just so radically different from everything he had ever been exposed to in his life it was almost difficult to read them at first. It was like they were written in a completely different language. But towards the end of the first half of the class, Harry had a firm grasp on the basics.

From what he could tell, the majority of the Gryffindors liked the Weasley boy. They were often exasperated with the ginger, but he never caught them sending glances of dark revenge or malevolent glares that a typical Slytherin might send towards a weak member of their House. It seemed as if the Gryffindors were _okay_ with such an annoying load of baggage. The Weasley seemed lazy, irresponsible, disorganized, and irritating as hell. Yet it was _okay_. If the boy had been in Slytherin, he would have been taught his place by now.

Not only did the Gryffindors seem to accept dunderheads, they also appeared as if they had no hierarchy of any kind in their House. Harry could tell that some of the boys were more respected than others, but there wasn't a clear definition of who was higher than whom. It was nothing like the Slytherins where the more powerful topped the pyramid while the weaker stood below. The Gryffindors were, more or less, equal no matter their adequacy.

It disturbed Harry, if he were to be honest.

Harry didn't have the luxury of ignoring a lecture during the second half of class. By then, the professor had finished her part and the students began to pull out their wands for some practice. Harry couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable doing absolutely nothing. He couldn't. He was a Squib and a Squib couldn't do the spells no matter how well one understood the concept behind it.

The professor seemed to notice Harry's predicament and she made her way over to the solitary Slytherin.

"Did you understand the lecture?" she asked once she was standing beside Harry's desk.

Harry glanced up at her, a little more than annoyed that she was distracting him from his observations. He would have liked to analyze how powerful the Gryffindors and Slytherins were.

Of course, Harry let none of his irritation show. "The lecture was very interesting."

"I'm glad. I was concerned that you wouldn't understand since you hadn't received the same background that the rest have."

It was strange to hear that somebody was worried about him. In his world, either you caught up when you didn't understand something or you were crushed for your weakness. "I liked to study a little magical theory back in the colonies."

McGonagall looked at him curiously. "I didn't know that the Dark Lord allowed such things to occur."

Harry shrugged. "I never said I had the Dark Lord's permission." And it was true. Sometimes, he would sneak out a couple of books behind his guardian's back.

"That's very…brave of you," the professor murmured. "Something I would expect one of my Gryffindors to do."

The comment made Harry stiffen a little before he relaxed. It was a natural reaction of his to tense when he was somehow related to Gryffindor traits. Tom hadn't liked them and any association with them had been immediately rewarded with punishment. But this professor had meant it as a compliment. How strangely…kind.

"Perhaps not brave," Harry grinned ruefully. "More like self-preserving. I knew that one day I would have to face magic whether it came in the form of Death Eaters after my neck or not. It would be better to know some of the theory behind magic if I were to ever have a chance of escaping."

A frown had manifested itself on McGonagall's face by the end of his explanation but she didn't have time to elaborate on her reaction when one of the Gryffindors suddenly disappeared behind a plume of dark smoke.

"Mr. Finnegan! I have lost count of how many times you have set something on fire. Would it be difficult to avoid creating a fire hazard for one class?"

Well, at least now Harry knew to keep away from this Finnegan figure. He had no intention of bursting into flames because an accidental pyrokinetic fumbled a simple spell.

"Sorry, professor!" spluttered the burnt Gryffindor. "I was just trying to do the spell…honest!"

"I'm sure you were," McGonagall sighed. "But it couldn't possibly be that difficult to avoid. You were supposed to conjure something for Merlin's sake! How on earth did you manage to blow something up you haven't even conjured yet?"

One of the Slytherins snickered from the other side of the room. "Gryffindors," Blaise chortled. "They mess up everything." It had been said hardly louder than a whisper, but Harry had heard it and, surprisingly enough, so had the Weasley boy.

"Take that back, you slimy snake!"

Blaise smirked. "What are you going to do about it, Weasley? Last time you tried to cast a spell at me you ended up with slugs coming up your throat."

The Gryffindor flushed. "My wand was broken."

"Why am I not surprised? Dull, the whole lot of you."

"Mr. Zabini and Mr. Weasley!" the professor exclaimed. "Enough!"

"Well what makes you think you're so great?" the Weasley spat despite the professor's warning. "You think you're so smart and _pure_. Guess that doesn't count for anything, now does it? Your perfect little house now has a _Squib_. And he's apparently stupid enough to think he can take magical classes when he can't even do any magic!"

Harry had been watching the whole tirade with a rather amused expression on his face. It was entertaining to watch the annoying ginger lose his temper and a little gratifying to watch Blaise completely trounce the dunderhead with his words. Perhaps losing his temper and retaliating wasn't exactly the Slytherin thing to do, but Harry found Blaise's reaction satisfying all the same. It had been just a funny episode, really, until the Gryffindor arse decided to bring him into it.

Now that Harry had been dragged into the situation, he had two choices: lay low and escape risk or retaliate and risk humiliation. One, of course, sounded much more sensible than the other. But if Harry were to placidly take the insult, then everybody in the room would take him as weak. They would forever label him a target. If he retaliated, he might gain both Houses' approval if he tread carefully. If he retaliated and lost, then he would be labeled weak and a complete idiot. It was one or the other. There was no escaping it. First impressions were essential.

"Fascinating, Weasley," Harry murmured. "You think me stupid enough to take magical classes when I am incapable of magic. I don't see how it is any different for you."

The other boy flushed again, mortified. "Did you just say I couldn't use magic?"

"I was hoping you understood the English language, but apparently I was hoping for too much," Harry drawled.

"But you did say it!" the boy insisted. "I'm not as stupid as you slimy snakes think I am."

"Quite right," Harry smiled indulgently. "You are far beyond anything we could have ever believed. So far, that we have no idea how to fix you anymore. Pity, really."

"You're being a jealous git! Just because you can't use any magic doesn't mean you can barge in here and act like you do!"

"Once again, I fail to see how the situation is any different for you. I may be wrong, but have you even managed so much as a single conjuration this entire class yet?"

The boy opened his mouth to snap back but then he stopped midway and froze. The Gryffindor hadn't actually successfully conjured anything yet. He hadn't even managed to create an explosion like the Finnegan boy. Harry had been vaguely observing during his conversation with the professor and out of all the students in the class, the Weasley had shown the most abysmal skill.

The room seemed silent as the Gryffindor struggled to come up with a reply only to be abruptly interrupted by a rather angry professor.

"Well I certainly would have hoped for a more mature response out of all of you!" McGonagall snapped. "You are Fifth Years, not First Years! My word…I expected better of you, Mr. Zabini. And you, Mr. Weasley! I think it would be prudent to increase your detention a weeklong. I will not tolerate blatant insult towards a new student!"

"But…" the Weasley spluttered.

"I expect the utmost courtesy out of my own house," the professor sternly interrupted. "Anything less is unacceptable. Now I advise you turn back to your conjuration. Mr. Evans was quite right: you have not yet successfully conjured anything as of yet."

The rest of the class went by quickly with about five successful conjurations (all from the Slytherin side). Harry spent the remainder of the time absently writing on a piece of parchment, appearing as if he were taking notes.

It was fun and all to watch his fellow classmates in order to gather information, but even Tom would lose interest eventually. Time was better spent on more important endeavors.

Endeavors like completely changing how the Light worked.

~0~

The Squibs were used to being treated like second class. They were used to sharing bathrooms and taking the colder dorms. They were used to moving out of the way for wizards and taking their disdain. They were used to the prejudice. Anything was better than being in Voldemort's hands. They had heard the horror stories. They didn't need any more. Here, at Hogwarts, they were given a home and an education before they were allowed to do as they pleased within the safe confines of the Light Sanctuary. It was every Squib's dream in the United Kingdom to live here.

But it is not human nature to bow down obediently. It is human nature to strive higher, to strive to be the best. It is human nature to fight for survival. Yet the Squibs seemed to have no inkling of striving higher. The Squibs were used to their way of life at Hogwarts. They even embraced it, enjoyed it. Life was good.

Or so they thought.

The human mind is something complicated, intricate. It could be completely unpredictable yet completely predictable at the exact same time. Small things, like thoughts or ideas, were nearly impossible to pin down unless one knew the other as intricately as family members knew their own. Larger things though, like reactions and instinct, were easy to follow and, therefore, easy to manipulate. You couldn't tell what a person was thinking when they walked down a dark hallway. It could be anything from "I'm scared" to "I'm hungry". But the one thing you could count on was the fact that the sight of a zombie would most likely send said person running the opposite direction. You would know that the first reaction would be to freeze and run the opposite direction. It was all a matter of knowing humanity's innate instincts. Even if said person had been raised to hunt down zombies, the first reaction would always be a slight "run for safety" trigger because it was something human instinct insisted upon.

So while the Squibs saw their lives as something pleasant and almost luxurious, there was still that basic primal need to strive forward and look for something better. All it would take to bring such instincts to the surface would be to press the right buttons at the right time.

That night, several Squibs went to bed and dreamed the same dream and woke up the next morning asking the same questions to themselves.

What would it be like if _they _were the ones in charge?

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><p><strong>It's been forever since I've updated and I'm pretty sorry about that... This chapter is actually pretty short too so I suppose if you wanted to spear me down now it would be pretty valid :P But I've got a bunch of exams coming down my plate so you probably won't hear from me until...June? Maybe (probably) earlier but who knows. I'm not dead just fyi just busy for the time being. <strong>

**Anyway, I know that in the books and movies the majority of the students from First Years up know that McGonagall is a cat Animagus, but I decided to make it so that she only shows the Fifth Years because it will be part of their curriculum to learn about them. True, the older students could tell the younger ones but, really, why do that when you could have the younger ones go through a small shock their first day of Fifth Year Transfigurations?**

**Thanks to all my reviewers again! It's really nice to read all of them :)**

**And PS this wasn't exactly revised completely yet so if there's some errors or holes I guess that's why. I'll get around to editing it eventually. **


	6. What If We Were the Ones in Charge?

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

****And just in case you forgot: **Bold** = Parseltongue

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><p>Timothy Gadder loved Hogwarts. It was his sanctuary, his home, his world. Everything from the freezing winters to the comfortable warmth of the Common Room fire meant more to him than anybody could comprehend. Timothy knew he was fortunate to be living and studying at Hogwarts. It was the only safe haven for those of his kind, Squibs.<p>

Timothy had gotten used to the title, comfortable in it. Magic, as all Squibs knew, was beyond him. Better to study Muggle subjects to help the community once they finished their seventh year than to spend their time learning something they could never use. What good would it be if they knew the incantations for disarming an enemy if they could never actually cast the incantation? They would be far more useful learning how to best apply their non-magical selves.

The concept had once been a great thorn in his side. When he had first arrived, the wizards looked at him like trash and treated him like dirt. He always lost something and his dorm always rearranged itself. His clothes would go missing and his homework somehow erased. Of course, Timothy never could figure out who did it. Nobody ever could. Because it was untraceable. Invisible.

Magical.

But they had grown used to it and now all of that was no longer a concern. It was as simple as that. Some could use magic. Others, like Timothy, couldn't.

Then he'd gotten the dream. Five straight years of comfort in his position and one, single dream threw it all off. Timothy probably could have brushed it off and ignored it…if he could have remembered what the dream was even about. But the only thing that he could remember was waking up feeling exuberant, powerful, and respected. Something about that dream had given him a sense of authority and strength that he had never yet felt before in his life. From day one, he had been used to hiding and lying low. His entire life, he had been faced with two choices: either he could be forced to work like a slave because he was non-magical outside the barrier or live in a prejudiced school that ensured him a comfortable life.

The choice had always been obvious. Who wanted to live as a slave? Far better to live in a prejudiced society. It was with this mentality that all Squibs grew up with. And the fact that they received good housing, good education, and a good job after and during their time at Hogwarts just made the obvious choice all the more obvious.

Now that Timothy thought about it, he wondered why Squibs had ever accepted such a life. Yes, a restricted life was better than an enslaved one, but how much better was it exactly? It came as a slight surprise that nobody had ever thought to demand a few more rights. Why?

Maybe it was because Squibs had never known what it was like to live any other way. Maybe it was because Squibs had no idea what it was like to hold power and wield it. Maybe Squibs just didn't remember what true freedom was. Timothy had thought he lived in freedom. But after that dream…

Timothy couldn't have helped himself. He tried to quell the traitorous thoughts. After all, the Light had given him everything he had. Everything he loved. Yet he couldn't stop the one simple question that planted the seed of doubt.

What if Squibs were the ones in charge?

His mind couldn't stop there. Timothy couldn't help but imagine how it would be like to have no more missing clothes every time he returned from the showers. How much easier it would be to walk the halls with no more condescending glares. How much better it would be to no longer be shoved towards the back in everything. How amazing it would be to sleep in quarters equal to those of the wizards. How liberating it would be to be the one sneering rather than the one being sneered at…

"Tim!"

Timothy snapped out of his thoughts and a guilty flush of shame colored his cheeks as he glanced up. A rather angry girl his age glared down at him with her brown locks of hair partly obscuring her face from view. Timothy would ever admit it, but he thought those were the most beautiful locks of hair he had ever seen in his life.

"Tim, I've been calling you for the last five minutes! What are you dozing off about?"

Timothy reddened even more. Just a second ago he had been imagining…bad thoughts. Yes, that was it. He had been thinking evil thoughts. Thoughts that somebody of the Dark might think. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let the others find out. What if they shipped him over to the Dark?

Yet…what if…

No. Timothy shook his head and smiled at his friend. "Stayed up late last night trying to finish that section on conics, Leila."

"Something you should have finished a day earlier."

"Only you finish your homework a day early," Timothy sighed. "Why do you bother?"

"So that I don't stay up late," she mused. "Like a certain somebody I know."

Timothy smiled at her. She really had been the best friend anybody could ask for. When he had first come to Hogwarts, she had helped him through all of the initial shock of living among wizards. She had grown up serving a wizarding household. Her parents had only recently come from the Dark and the only occupation they could pick up had been to help around one of the wizarding houses. Despite that, she had always been the happier of them both and Timothy couldn't help but admire her for it.

"We have Biology in five minutes, Tim. Hurry up and finish your French toast. I swear, you eat more and more everyday."

Timothy grinned. "I'm a growing boy."

"Horizontally or vertically?"

Timothy teasingly swiped his fork at her and smiled gently as she giggled and ran off ahead of him. She had never been the sort to arrive late.

But as he watched her disappear among the throng of students, Timothy felt a stab of irritation. Leila could go so far. She was intelligent, certainly fitting of the Ravenclaw House she had been Sorted into. She loved to learn and Timothy thought that had the barrier of prejudice not existed, she could have gone very far in her studies of magic, even if she could never perform any of it.

Timothy never thought he could ever make it very far. His only redeeming quality was his unfailing courage at times. His Gryffindor nature, he supposed. But he thought that Leila deserved so much more. And the fact that she was a Squib would forever keep her from her full potential.

It just wasn't fair.

But…if the Squibs were the ones in charge…

~0~

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the dungeons as Harry abruptly woke with his scar burning. It was as if somebody were shoving a hot brand against his forehead and into the very recesses of his mind. Every nerve in his body throbbed from the shock and he was reduced to mindless gasps of agony as he waited out the pain. He was helpless in this state and he knew full well that it wouldn't subside unless Tom wanted it to.

"**Where are you**?**"**

The words were like a cool caress against the blinding heat of torture, but they only lasted for a moment.

"**Harry…"**

Harry moaned and pressed his palms to his scar. It had been years since he had experienced this pain. Years since he had displeased the Dark Lord. He couldn't even remember the last time Tom had tortured him like this. Tom had always refrained form this form of punishment because it had always been far worse than even the Cruciatus Curse. It came directly from their link as Horcrux and Master and the levels of pain that could be reached were far higher than any other spell Tom knew. Harry was attached to _Tom's_ soul so Tom could make the agony last as long and as harshly as he liked.

"**Harry…where are you…"**

Harry sobbed into the open air and shoved a fist into his mouth. As incoherent as he was, he couldn't let the other Slytherins hear him now. Sure, he slept in his own room and there were thick stone walls separating them, but Harry couldn't take any chances. Not now.

He bit down hard as the pain spiked and the taste of salt invaded his mouth. All thought was driven from his mind as the agony overcame him and the only thing he could even begin to think about was how much he wanted it to just _stop_.

"**I know it hurts, Harry…just tell me where you are and it will stop…"**

Damn. Did he just voice his need for it to stop through their link? He couldn't do that. The Light barrier was probably the only reason why Tom hadn't already known where Harry was. Oh. Damn. It was _because_ Tom couldn't tell where Harry was that probably tipped it off. Where else could he be but the Light? But surely Tom didn't _know_ that. After all, Harry had been fairly sure that the Dark Lord thought his little Horcrux Dark. But Tom wasn't stupid. He would figure it out.

All thought was banished again as his scar burned fiercely. Tom was getting impatient.

"**Harry…where are you…"**

It was burning, burning, _burning. _Harry tasted more salt as he screamed through his fist and his body spasmed as his nerves throbbed in time with his scar. Why couldn't it just stop? Why couldn't it just _stop_?

Tom's infuriating chuckle echoed through the link but Harry couldn't bring himself to hate it. Tom's voice was the only thing that brought the pain to a stop, even if only briefly. He involuntarily felt himself relax as Tom's voice reverberated through his mind and suddenly the agony ceased as quickly as it had come.

"**Ah…Harry…I could make it stop if you would just **_**tell**_** me where you are…"**

Harry immediately felt himself reject the words only to whimper as the pain returned again.

"**I don't want to hurt you, Harry…"**

Yeah, right. Sadistic bastard.

Tom laughed again and the pain stopped. **"As amusing as ever…but I'm still **_**displeased**_**."**

Harry screamed and bit down hard as agony washed through his mind over and over again. It stabbed at his every nerve, his every memory, and all Harry could comprehend was pure pain. For how long it carried on, Harry had no idea, but when he was able to think again, Tom's fury was no longer controlled as he always kept it.

"**Don't think I will let this go, Harry…I **_**will**_** find you and bring you back."**

Harry tensed for another wave of pain. He could feel Tom's blank anger and he knew better than anybody else what Tom loved to do when he was angry. So he was pleasantly surprised when Tom suddenly withdrew from their link and he was left panting against his sweat-soaked sheets. He was puzzled. Why did Tom retreat? He never retreated unless…

It must have been the Light barrier. The Dark Lord could breach it through their link because they were so intricately connected but he could probably only hold it for so long. That was a relief. That meant Tom wouldn't be back to torture him for a little bit. That, and he could only torture him for so long. It was a relief, but only a small one.

Harry laughed bitterly to himself. He thought he had the link under control. Ever since he had merged his soul with the Dark Lord's own, this sort of thing had never been a problem. But he had given Tom little reason to be angry at him over the last few years and maybe the lack of torture from his guardian had left him relaxed. It had given him a false sense of security over his own destiny. He thought he had the link under control.

Apparently he didn't. And that, more than anything, kept Harry up for the rest of the night.

~0~

Needless to say, Harry was less than pleasant in the morning. He had managed to place his clothes on as neatly as he had always done before, but it had caused him a lot of pain. He would be in pain for the rest of the day. He always ached after long torture sessions like that.

As Harry settled down to morosely eat his breakfast in the Great Hall, he scowled at the constant chatter surrounding him and he had a sudden desperate wish for the Light barrier to collapse just so that he could hex everybody in sight. His thoughts strayed as he picked at his food and he delved into his inner sulky child.

Sometimes, Harry wondered what it would have been like if his parents hadn't perished by Tom's hand. Would he have lived in a quaint house, painted white with a simple picket fence? Would he have grown up giggling at toys and spoiled with sweets? Would he have been rewarded for eating his vegetables and adored for his small "baby talk"? Would he have been taken to his father's office to "bring your child to work" day? Would his mother have kissed his forehead and tucked him in at night? Would he have had birthday parties lavished with silly games and surrounded by friends? Would he have attended school and participated in clubs dedicated to the silliest things? Would he have been invited to Hogwarts, wary of the Dark and named the Gryffindor his parents had been?

Would he have been _normal_?

Harry abruptly laughed aloud and several of the Slytherins around him gave him a startled glance. _Normal_? That was ridiculous. He wasn't made to be normal. Even if he had grown up with his original parents, Harry had a strange feeling that he would have ended up with a life just as insane as this one. Somehow, he knew that fate found it rather funny to intertwine his destiny with Tom's.

Harry gave up on his meal and irritably stood. He made his way towards the opposite end of the hall where the Muggle classes were located and quietly passed the Gryffindor table along his way.

"Tim!"

Harry hesitated. He recognized that name. The Gryffindor and his female Ravenclaw friend were in his Biology class. The boy was tall for his age and dirty blond hair always managed to find its way into his eyes. It eerily resembled his friend's hair and sometimes Harry wondered whether the boy did that on purpose. It wasn't hard to recognize that Timothy Gadder rather liked his friend.

But that hadn't been the only thing Harry had noticed about his classmate. Timothy had seemed to be just like every other Squib, obedient and quiet. But as Harry accidentally brushed against him a few days earlier, he had immediately tasted the boy's potential, the potential to rebel. Beneath all those fake layers of satisfaction, Harry had felt the silent anger and resentment. Harry's magic might have been suppressed at the moment, but he could still sense simple things such as those emotions.

It had been simple from there. A drop of blood from a subtle paper cut, a small piece of wood picked from the Forbidden Forest during a Care of Magical Creatures class, and a knife from the kitchens to carve a set of dreaming runes had been all Harry had needed to start his plans.

It was only one Squib, but Harry had already created a few more dreaming talismans. There were only a few he had targeted now, but he knew he wouldn't need many. Sooner or later, those Squibs would talk and planted ideas were often the greatest weapons.

Before the month would be over, those Squibs would no longer be quite as satisfied as they thought they were.

Harry plastered on a cheerful smile and walked over to his target.

"Hello. My name is Harry Evans."

The Squib looked up at him with a startled gasp and narrowed his eyes as he spotted the Slytherin colors on Harry's robes.

"You're the Slytherin Squib."

Harry struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Really. How much more obvious could you get? "Yes, I am. I was wondering if you would like to walk to class with me."

Timothy was, predictably, suspicious. "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "You know…I'm a Squib and being a Slytherin isn't exactly the easiest thing…"

The Gryffindor's eyes softened (as Harry expected) and he murmured, "Must be difficult."

Harry smiled sadly. "I saw you in my Biology class a few days ago and, well, since I saw you this morning I was wondering if you could…"

Timothy quickly nodded. "Of course. I'm Timothy by the way."

Harry couldn't quite keep the vicious grin off his face. "I know."

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><p><strong>Sorry about the short chapter. But hey, I actually wrote something before June came along! I'm still pretty busy so I might not update until May is over. <strong>

**I'm not so sure if I'm going to make Timothy all that important. There are a few other Squibs Harry's already targeted so I don't know. What do you think?**

**And no, creating those talismans don't count as magic. Anybody non-magical can do it because all it really needs are the right runes and materials. Given, they will not be as potent as a wizard's (or witch's) talisman, but it will still work. Since Harry's only targeting Squibs, the talismans will affect them just as strongly as normal because they don't have any magical resistance against those types of things. The reason why no Squib knows about these talismans is because they don't take magical courses and since talismans are often less effective and more time consuming than spells via wand, the art has pretty much died out. Of course, Harry knows how to make them because you learn all sorts of things when you bury yourself in a Dark Lord's ancient library with who-knows-what in there. **

**And for those of you out there worrying over it, of course Harry's going to get his magic back. He has to walk outside the Light barrier eventually, right? I'm not keeping him cooped up in there forever :) **

**Thanks to all my reviewers! It's really nice of you guys to take the time to write me something :)**

**and PS again, this isn't edited. I'm lazy like that :P I'll get around to it eventually. **


	7. A Schizophrenic Dilemma

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Harry followed Timothy down the hallway, always a step behind. His head was shyly bent and his eyes trained on the other boy's shoes. He interlocked his fingers in apparent nervousness and a tentative smile graced his lips. Timothy had had his concerns after that one particularly vicious smile the other boy had sent him, but, looking at him now, the Slytherin Squib couldn't have looked any more harmless.<p>

Timothy smiled back at the newest student and a sense of empowerment tickled him. He had never had anybody asking him for help like this. He had never had another student following _him_ before. Timothy was the obvious leader here and he couldn't help but glow in the moment. Was this what it felt like to stand on top of others? Was this what it would be like if…?

No, Timothy couldn't shift back to those thoughts now. Focus on the Slytherin.

"So what have the Slytherin been doing to you?" Timothy asked.

Harry tensed and glanced up in slight panic before he bit his lip and whispered, "They ignore me. Never even one glance at me. They don't do anything, actually, and…and that's what scares me so much." Timothy watched as the other boy paled. "I know they hate me."

Timothy couldn't possibly fathom what was so horrible about being ignored; it was certainly better than being outright bullied. Yet the way Harry seemed to helplessly fret over it caused Timothy to feel a slight protectiveness choke him. They might have been in the same year, but Harry seemed so fragile. Timothy felt that one simple push would shatter the other boy. He couldn't allow that to happen. Even if he was a Slytherin, Harry was one of them, a Squib.

"Don't worry about it," Timothy grinned. "You won't have to worry about that anymore. You can just ignore those slimy gits right back. All you have to do is come talk to me or any of the other Squibs. We'll help you out. You don't need _them_."

A strange flicker sparked in Harry's eyes before it disappeared a moment later. "Thank you."

Timothy smiled. "Hey, we've got to stick up for each other, right?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right."

When they reached the Biology class, Timothy promptly dragged Harry over to meet Leila. She seemed to take an automatic liking to Harry and the three of them were comfortably seated together by the time the professor began. Leila, being her brilliant self, quickly understood the majority of the lesson. Timothy struggled before he could finally comprehend it and smiled in victory before he realized that Harry's brow was furrowed in complete confusion. By the time the class was over, the entire lecture was recorded perfectly into the Slytherin's notebook but Timothy automatically knew by the boy's expression that everything had completely flown through one ear and out the other.

"Hey, Harry," Timothy asked as they left the room. "Did you…find the lesson interesting?"

Leila, who was walking beside him, burst into a brilliant smile. "It was fascinating! I've been looking forward to this unit for years! How those enzymes work and affect us…now we can finally begin understanding the chemical explanations for them!"

Harry was biting his lip again and a slightly panicked look overwhelmed the other boy's features. Timothy automatically moved in to do damage control.

"Well, I found the lesson rather difficult, Leila."

She pouted and stuck out her tongue. "Tim, you're no fun!"

Harry tightened his grip on his books before he quietly whispered, "I didn't get it."

Leila glanced over at Harry in surprise before her face softened and guilt took over. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I forgot that you were new." She sighed and asked, "If you really need help, Timothy and I could tutor you."

"No!" Harry vehemently shook his head. "I…I can't do that to you. You've got your own schedule, you own studies…"

"Hey," Timothy grinned. "What are friends for?"

The Slytherin literally stopped in his tracks in shock. "You…you just said…"

"That's right," Leila smiled. "Timothy just said _friends_. We're friends now. No way are we leaving you to flounder."

Harry seemed frozen for a longer moment before he broke in a blindingly thrilled expression. "I don't know how to thank you guys enough! I-I'm really glad I met you guys!"

Timothy felt a flutter of that superiority again, that strength he never knew he could have. He quickly glanced over at Leila and, from the way her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes were sparking, she felt it too. This power they had never experienced before in their lives came from this one, shy boy. This one Slytherin was what gave them the chance to stand a step higher than they had been standing before. With him under their wing, they were no longer at the bottom of the ladder.

Timothy had felt this high throughout the entire Biology class. Every time Harry's eyes bled confusion, he felt more powerful. Every time Harry nervously wrung his hands beneath the table, he felt more powerful. Every time Harry hesitantly glanced his way for direction, he felt more powerful. Gryffindors were supposed to be helpful, honorable, right? Well wasn't helping this new Squib helpful? Wasn't helping this new student _good_? Surely this feeling of…empowerment couldn't be bad when it stemmed from this good. This wasn't selfishness. This wasn't an evil hunger for power that those of the Dark always succumbed to. No, this kind of power was good, Timothy decided. After all, if Harry was so happy, who was Timothy to deprive him of his happiness?

"Come to us anytime," he smiled at Harry. "We'll help you."

~0~

Harry had to stop himself from blanching…for the hundredth time. He felt absolutely disgusted after an entire day of playing the helpless little puppy around Timothy and his annoying know-it-all friend, Leila. Playing the helpless victim always made Harry feel filthy. Dirty. It wasn't like him to stoop so low. He hadn't necessarily planned to paint such a needy picture of himself especially after his little performance in the Transfiguration class. He had gone to Timothy planning to place a foot in the Squib hierarchy. That had been it.

But Harry knew that all good plans never worked out. There was no such thing as a good plan because even the best plan only lasted for a second before one had to improvise. After seeing the Squib's expression and glee at Harry's innocent and hurt image, Harry knew right then and there that the best way to nurture his tool's need for power was to continue that image. Yet a small, traitorous part of him rejoiced in the making of friends, even if they were superficially so.

It was a good thing Squibs and wizards never conversed. Otherwise, his little Squib tool would have known that today had all been an act. But Harry couldn't bank on that forever. There was always the slightest chance that something would leak. There was always the slightest chance that one little slip would send all of this to ruins. The way he held himself in the magical class had been completely different from his mannerisms in the Muggle classes. Imagine what it would be like if Timothy and other Squibs saw the truth? Harry couldn't have that.

So how to prevent such a thing?

Harry sighed and leaned back into an armchair at the perimeter of the Slytherin Common Room. The soft emerald leather cradled his slim body and the fire blazing in the fireplace just a few feet away kept him relatively warm. He sat in such a way that he was rather unnoticeable but capable of observing the entire Common Room at the same time. This was really the only time for him to observe his fellow Housemates in their "natural habitat". Outside the room, they had their masks up. In here, everybody loosened up a little even with Harry in the vicinity.

Harry almost laughed. Well, _loosened_ wasn't necessarily the right for it. They were certainly less stoic but Slytherins thrived on the day-to-day verbal and mental sparring. People were constantly testing each other, trying to get the advantage.

This was Harry's environment. Watered down, for sure, but still his environment. Being the weak Squib didn't sit well with him. He wondered how much longer he would have to keep this up. His magic was restricted, but he could play this manipulative game - magic or no magic. Harry sighed again and turned his mind back to his main problem.

He could try to increase the rift between the Squibs and the wizards and witches. That would be easy enough. But there was still that possibility of that one student leaking. He could force the magical students to keep their mouths shut but that would only significantly increase the difficulty of reaching his ultimate goal. His actions in keeping the wizards and witches quiet would have to be enforced in Slytherin as well and he wanted to gain their trust, not create an even wider chasm. Perhaps he could force the magical students to remain silent through another. He knew how to manipulate somebody into acting as he wished. That was already evident through Timothy. But what good would that do? It would only raise suspicion. Why, they would ask, would they have to keep quiet about Harry Evan's actions? It would all lead to him in the end.

Harry licked his lips and quietly observed as Blaise won yet another round of chess against a fellow Slytherin. Harry enjoyed chess. It was a mentally stimulating game that revealed more about the opponent than many realized. Perhaps it was cliché, but Harry often likened his plans and plots to a chess game. He had not doubt that Tom did the same thing. Whenever Harry played against Tom, he was forced to focus completely or suffer immediate humiliation with his guardian's silky "checkmate" after a mere minute. Harry had never won, but that never stopped him from trying. The one time he had been a move away from victory, he had leaped too quickly and lost. Perhaps this situation with the Squibs and wizards was not so different. After losing that one close game, Tom had told him that sometimes the best strategy was to simply sit, wait, and listen. More often than not, the opponent would get caught up in his or her own drive and slip. Or, in Harry's case, perhaps his little situation would just play itself out without any interference.

Not that Harry thought about it, it made perfect sense. The Squibs and magicals naturally distrusted each other. Years of prejudice and degradation had left a rather large gap between the two. If Timothy happened to walk up to Slytherins and accused them of abusing poor little Harry, nothing would truly result from it. The Slytherins would reject such accusations because, in reality, they hadn't done anything. With his Squib mindset and fierce loyalty to an apparently harmless classmate, Timothy wouldn't believe a word and continue to blame. It would just be a baseless argument between two entities that would never bow to the other's claims. Any mention of Harry's actions in class would mean nothing to Timothy or his Squib relations in the face of "outright" denial of bullying.

A small smirk wormed its way on to Harry's face. He had nothing to worry about. Sure, his words in the first Transfigurations class had been bold and self-assured, but if he stuck to himself for the next few months, nobody would remember that one freak incident. If he kept his head low and unobtrusive, the magical students would eventually ignore his presence in their classes and consider him just another Squib.

It would be tiring to keep up for sure, but Harry felt that the end result would be worth it.

~0~

The Potions class went into a slight hush as Harry stepped inside. Very rarely did any class fall even slightly silent for anybody other than the professor teaching. But Evans just happened to have bad luck with a Gryffindor-Slytherin class combo again with more than half of the students witness to his earlier performance in Transfiguration. Astoria supposed that Evans was just lucky that Weasley didn't have this particular class at this time. She herself had been a witness and she had been pleasantly surprised. Blaise had attempted to deter Evans from taking any magical classes early on and she had approved. But after seeing how the Squib handled himself with Weasley, she suddenly felt that having something new might not be so bad after all. She was all about discovery. Astoria loved that sort of dysfunctional feeling it created when things just didn't fit with the puzzle of order.

She carefully watched as the Squib made his way to sit in the center of the room just as he had in the previous magical class. The hidden meaning in such a move wasn't lost on her. She had grown up in a family swarmed in politics. She knew what a declaration of neutrality was when she saw it.

Something about Evans was…different. She knew through Blaise's uncomfortable glances that she wasn't the only one that thought so. None of the other Slytherins seemed to have caught on quiet yet, but she knew that they would eventually. That uniqueness about the Squib couldn't go unnoticed. That difference was just too disquieting to ignore for long.

Astoria wasn't sure whether that difference was a good thing or a bad thing.

But, once again, the Greengrass heiress wasn't averse to change and she was willing to accept change when it slapped her in the face. She had never known a Squib to act so boldly against a wizard (as pathetic as Weasley was). This was oddly…refreshing. Annoying to a degree, but refreshing.

Suddenly the door burst open and Professor came sweeping into the classroom with a magnificent billowing of his black robes. Whatever conversation had persisted after Evans's entrance immediately ceased in the professor's presence.

Astoria smirked and wondered how the newest Squib would deal with their Head of House. She entertained ideas of seeing Evans burst into tears just as a Hufflepuff would every now and then.

Professor Snape settled his piercing black eyes upon the assembled and drawled, "Wands away. I would hope you remember by now that there is to be no silly wand waving in my class."

Several Gryffindors guiltily looked away and quickly stashed their wands in their robes. None of the Slytherins, including Evans, moved a muscle. They already knew what it would mean to look less than perfect in Professor Snape's class.

"We will be brewing a Alihotsy Draught today. Would anybody care to articulate what, exactly, a Alihotsy Draught does?"

Astoria smiled and primly raised her hand. Her mother had shown her this particular draught the past summer, knowing it would be on the curriculum. It was always best for a Greengrass to be a little ahead.

"Ms. Greengrass."

"The Alihotsy Draught is a potion made from the Alihotsy plant. Drinking it or inhaling its fumes induces hysteria," Astoria quickly but coherently supplied.

She smiled as the professor nodded in approval and said, "Five points to Slytherin." He turned on the spot and rapped his wand against the board, startling some of the Gryffindors and even a Slytherin or two. "The instructions are on the board. Gather your supplies and place a sample of your completed work on my desk at the end of the period." The professor opened his mouth to command them to begin only to abruptly stop in mid-motion.

Astoria curiously followed her Head of House's line of sight and was only mildly surprised to see that it directly led to none other than Harry Evans.

"You are the new student?" the professor brusquely inquired.

Evans flicked his emerald eyes up to the professor's and merely nodded.

"Speak when spoken to, boy."

There was a terse moment of silence before Evans relented and murmured, "I am."

"Then I will let this go just once. Are you aware that you need a partner in this class?"

Evans glanced around and the smallest hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he replied, "I'm afraid that there is an uneven number of students, sir."

Professor Snape snapped his eyes across the classroom in a quick scan before he scowled. "You are new. I will not have an inexperienced brewer navigate the room alone. I do not wish to find myself with yet another melted cauldron."

Astoria could almost hear the entire class hold their breath. They had seen Evans's reaction to Weasley's comment. What would he do now? It was obvious that the professor was insinuating the Squib's inadequacy.

"You are right," Evans agreed to the class's disappointment. "I would not wish to inconvenience you, sir."

The professor only nodded once and Astoria suddenly found herself looking straight into the man's onyx eyes.

"Ms. Greengrass. With your expertise in this class I expect you capable of dealing with Mr. Evans. You may begin."

It took the class a moment before they realized that the last sentence had been directed to them all. They hastily started into action the moment the command sank in. Nobody wanted to be called out for lollygagging.

Astoria felt a flutter of irritation. Why was she lumped together with the Squib? Sure the boy was entertaining from a _distance_. But she didn't want to compromise her Potions grade just because a Squib wanted to feel a little magical by taking classes with the rest of them. She huffed and picked up her bag before resettling beside Evans.

"Gather the ingredients on the board," she snapped the second she placed her bag down and pulled out her Potions book. That task shouldn't be too hard. All of the supplies were labeled in the supply closet.

Astoria felt more than saw Evans's body tense in reaction to her hostility before he relaxed and did as he was told. She felt a sort of vicious satisfaction in having affected the Squib. He deserved it for disrupting her path towards success.

In truth, she knew that it would probably take Evans more time to gather the materials needed because it would probably be his first time even entering the supply closet. At least all of the other students had five years of experience plucking the ingredients needed. This would cut down on their time but Astoria felt another vicious righteousness at forcing the Squib to suffer through it.

So imagine her surprise when her designated partner came back before anybody else who had stood up to gather the supplies.

Astoria narrowed her eyes and looked at Evans closely. He looked back at her, completely impassive with his sparkling eyes glittering with…_amusement_?

"Don't you think we should begin?" he asked with a small quirk of his mouth.

Astoria scowled and wordlessly began to brew.

She was embarrassed to say that, by the end of the class, Evans had proved far more helpful than any other partner she had ever had in her years at Hogwarts. At first, he had silently stood to the side, sensing her irritation. He only began to speak when she began to cut the Alihotsy plant.

"It's better to crush it with the flat of your blade," he had advised. "More of the fluid comes out of it that way."

Astoria had frowned and pointed out that the book clearly said to cut the plant, not crush it.

Evans had given her a look that screamed, "You're not really that stupid, are you?"

Astoria was, by no means, stupid. So she had shamelessly taken the bait and crushed the plant and dumped it into the bubbling cauldron. She had been pleasantly surprised to see that the potion immediately turned the perfect shade of turquoise described in the Potions book.

After that, she had grudgingly taken all of Evans's advice into consideration and ended up being the first to place a vial of perfect Alihotsy Draught on Professor Snape's desk.

A bitter taste of defeat lined Astoria's mouth as she tore her mind away from the memory and glared at the floor as she left the Potions classroom. Her potion (or rather, Evans's potion) had been proclaimed immaculate and she now held yet another O in her grades. It was a shallow win for her, though, and she had infinitely more questions pertaining to the newest Slytherin Squib. Being his partner had cleared nothing up. It had solidified none of her preconceptions. Who was Evans really? How did he know all of those brewing tricks? How could he have known to brew something better than the Potions book itself when he was nothing more than a Squib?

The questions were never-ending, but something akin to respect now outlined Astoria's vision of Harry Evans.

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><p><strong>I know, I know...it's been FOREVER since I've updated. I can honestly say, though, that my exams have been consuming my every thought for the last month. Damn that Pre-Calculus. And I used to think mathematics was <em>easy<em>. What happened to the good old days when I didn't even have to study for tests? **

**But I suppose that's really no excuse, right? I know what it's like to wait :P**

**And sorry for going so slowly with the story. I'm actually much better at writing the little interludes between the main turning points in the story rather than the turning points themselves so, yes, I'm stalling but I also believe that the little interludes are important to developing the climaxes. **

**So in case it was too confusing: Harry's problem is that he already painted himself this confident figure in the Transfigurations class with the whole embarrassing Ron and the whole shebang. Then he goes and ends up acting all meek and submissive around Timothy and the other Squibs. Quite a contradicting picture, no? But Harry finds out that acting all weak around the Squibs is what causes their ego to boost even more and that's ultimately what he is aiming for because increasing their ego will increase their need for equal treatment. On the other hand, he can't have his other image disrupting his acting because he can't just go and continue to act all meek with the magical students. They already saw his confident image. He can't take that back...yet. **

**So for now, he's stuck with patiently waiting it out and acting his parts. Gain respect and his place in the magical classes while gaining the sympathy and boosting Squib ego in Muggle classes. **

**Thanks to all my reviewers again :) It's really inspires me to keep writing despite my terrible tendency to get too wrapped up in other fanfics XD**

**Not edited (again!) btw so sorry for any mistakes or weird holes...**


	8. What Wouldn't I Give to Punch You?

**Yup, this is chapter 8 again. I know I technically posted this chapter already, but remember how I rushed the whole "Harry taking over the Slytherin House" thing? Well it was my attempt at not being slow and picking up the pace a bit but I just didn't like it. Period. It was TERRIBLE and I'm sorry for all the poor souls who read that piece of crap. Seriously. It bothered me to no end. I wrote chapter nine but this chapter was just eating at me so much that I decided to scrap my chapter 8 and 9 to go back and rewrite this. **

**Trust me, it's not just me expounding on his "taking over Slytherin House" thing. It is that, but I'm going to add a lot more stuff in it as well so be patient with me! **

**I do not own Harry Potter (or anything else that will get me sued). **

**Oh, and PS...the last section is exactly the same Draco intro I did the first time. So you can just skip that last section.**

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><p>It seemed like waiting had been the right choice.<p>

Harry didn't hide the smile that spread across his face as he ambled slightly behind Timothy's steps. Nobody would think anything of it. Not anymore. It had been a few months since his decision to do nothing about his dilemma and his identity among the Squibs as Timothy's quiet Slytherin friend had finally become engrained in the minds of the non-magical student population.

Oh, the process had been far from pleasant. Several times he had to keep himself from losing control by actually pretending to be sick and heading to the Hospital Wing to avoid any contact with _idiocy_ – even for a few minutes. In a nutshell, he had been Timothy's little pet for the past few months and by doing so, he had gained not only his target's trust, but also the trust of his many friends. Timothy might not have been the brightest of the bunch, but he certainly held a bit more self-respect and charisma.

Harry had sat through _hours_ of supposed "tutoring" from both Timothy and Leila. Of course, he had appeared the perfect picture of a grateful imbecile, giving them the innocent eyes that had caught them so easily the first time he had gone to class with the. He slowly, but surely, allowed himself to earn better grades in his Muggle classes and he attested his victories to his "friends". Soon, he was almost always walking with the two in the non-magical hallways and other Squibs began to take interest in the Slytherin Squib.

Outside of those mundane halls, however, Harry was quite a different person.

To the witches and wizards of Hogwarts, he was invisible. He had been the target of their ire, their disgrace, for quite a few weeks but his lack of reaction had eventually forced away the majority of such advances. Gone were the cheerful, bashful smiles that were nearly tattooed to his face when in the non-magical classes. Gone were the clumsy accidents and the eagerness of a newborn puppy. In the halls that bore magic, Harry was a shadow.

He passed his classes with flying colors, of course. He was the best in his year but nobody knew that. He certainly didn't flaunt it like that idiot muggleborn, Hermione. It was beneath Harry to fail his _magical_ classes and the fact that he couldn't demonstrate his proficiency with actual magic itself was just a bonus. He could just take the manual tests and prove his knowledge of the theory well enough. Potions and Herbology were the classes most difficult to veil his knowledge but even the magical students expected him to do well in a "gardening class" and the fact that Astoria Greengrass was his Potions partner deflected any suspicions that might have arisen from his immaculate performance in that particular class.

Speaking of Astoria Greengrass, she was the only liability Harry had yet to eliminate.

Although, that git, Ron Weasley (it had taken Harry weeks to actually remember the insignificant clod's first name), was also still being his stubborn self. Harry was starting to think that indulging in a little verbal spar with the redhead his first day in Transfigurations had not been the wisest move. The idiot was a Gryffindor and they had a tendency to take personal humiliation rather seriously. Usually the repercussions of humiliating a lion were nothing compared those of humiliating a Slytherin. Slytherins didn't just take revenge. They _destroyed_ whoever had dared to threaten them. But Gryffindors were just as, if not more, persistent in their endeavors and Harry almost began to think that dealing with one, swift potential death threat would have been better than dealing with a multitude of attempted pranks throughout the months. He was starting to consider possible ways of _dealing_ with the weasel and that was not a good sign.

But Astoria was a completely different situation. She didn't directly challenge him. In fact, she didn't challenge him at all. What really concerned him was the way she _noticed_ him. She wasn't like the others, who had eventually forgotten his presence. The others just ignored him or glossed their eyes over him. She actually scrutinized him and he knew it despite her attempts to remain discreet about it. Harry didn't miss the many times she would slide her eyes over his shoulder in Potions to see his textbook as if searching for clues. He didn't necessarily need the textbook to brew the potions. He knew the majority of them by heart. But Harry had to maintain appearances after Astoria had begun to watch him and the only relief he ever gained from her piercing gaze was when he escaped to the boys' dormitories.

"So you think you're up for another round of studying?" Leila asked with a smile.

Harry glanced up at her from beneath his long eyelashes and he allowed another victorious grin touch his lips. She would think it a grin of gratitude. It was almost funny to smile so blatantly at their idiocy and get away with it. If anything, his moments of emotion just twisted their hearts in favor of him even more. The layers of irony weren't lost on Harry and he actually laughed aloud a bit before replying, "You always know me, Leila. I didn't really understand today's lesson in Mathematics."

Truth to be told, Harry had been hopelessly lost in the Muggle subjects the first month in class, but he had taken it upon himself to study the material. He was ahead enough in his magical classes and the Muggle subjects were actually rather interesting once he got beyond the basics. Harry was still a little behind the others in knowledge. After all, it was difficult to make up five years of education even if none of the Squibs studied quite as hard as Leila did. He had wanted to ask Leila questions about some of the more difficult theories in some of his non-magical classes but he couldn't allow his façade to fall. Instead, he turned to his teachers. They amused with his questions and answered them despite their belief that he wouldn't understand a word.

Imbeciles, the lot of them.

"Give him a break," Timothy groaned after Harry had replied. "You've seen how hard Harry's been studying. I think he deserves a treat."

Before Harry had entered been in his life, Timothy would have never declared such a thing aloud. He was too oppressed, too used to taking orders rather than granting them. Now he was sure enough in his own prowess to actually take it upon himself to grant Harry "treats". Timothy's pet indeed. Harry gritted his teeth at the subtle implications and only shook his head.

"It's alright, Timothy. I really do need to study. I'm just not as quick as the rest so I've got to work for it."

That look of guilt and respect was retribution enough, Harry decided. After all, this was how Harry wanted Timothy to be behaving. The Squib had actually been growing more and more outgoing. Now, whenever a situation arose, he was the first to dole out commands. Somebody broke a bone during physical education lessons? No problem; Timothy had the bone secured and the student sent to the Hospital Wing in a matter of minutes. Other students had been almost obliging to obey and now whenever something happened, people began to turn to Timothy.

It was exactly what Harry wanted. It would take some more cultivating, of course, but he would have Timothy strapped to that position of power. He wouldn't be able to escape it and then he would realize that he needed more. More freedom. More independence. And that meant dealing with the magicals.

For now, Timothy was still too fearful to think of such a solution and the other Squibs were far from devoted yet.

Harry felt a touch of impatience. It was going exactly to plan, but it was going too slowly. At this rate, it just might be too late. The ensuing confrontation between magical and non-magical had to happen here, at Hogwarts, where the elder magicals wouldn't take notice or see it as a mere squabble between students. If Timothy didn't have enough time between the first confrontation and the end of his Hogwarts years, he would be taking the battle into the arena outside the safe confines of Hogwarts and that would just end in disaster.

This new problem had been eating at Harry for the past week. He had decided to wait, as he had decided before, but one more week of it had finally forced Harry to realize that waiting wasn't the solution this time.

Harry followed Leila into the library as Timothy headed off towards the sports fields designed for the non-magical students. He comfortably settled into a seat and delicately opened the first book. For a split second, Harry flicked his eyes towards Leila's and saw the inner glee at yet another session to display her superiority in her eyes. He had seen it for some time and stored it away in his bank of information.

So he had to speed things up. Harry smirked to himself and glanced at Leila's hunger again.

_This was just too easy. _

~0~

Professor Snape didn't like kids. He just didn't. Maybe, once upon a time, he _could _have but whatever inclination he could have held towards such brats had been promptly erased from his system a long time ago. One did not simply go through seven years of constant bullying and emerge unscathed.

But whatever snarky mood he was consistently in had nothing to do with his dislike of hormonal teens. Severus had once been a part of the Dark and now, living in a world completely devoid it, he had trouble curbing his impulses. Sometimes he wished he had stayed with the Dark Lord just because he would then be not only allowed to practice, but also encouraged to practice Dark Magic. Severus had gone so long without it now, he almost feared he would never be able to use it again. He had been using far too many Light spells over the years and that had taken its toll on his magical core. It was now fairly tainted with the Light and Severus felt his affinity for the Dark slipping everyday.

But the Potions Master knew that it was better to be on this side of the barrier. Dark Magic, no matter how delicious it was, was not worth living a life of servitude under a crazed man hungry for blood. Severus had tried it, for a few years. He had even lived outside the barrier for a time. Then Lily had gone and died and Dumbledore had made an exception for him. Now he was a part of the Light and he knew that he should have accepted it by now. Life was quaint here. He should like it.

"Lemon Sherbet," he scowled at the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. He had no idea why the Headmaster insisted upon such ridiculous passwords. Honestly, if he were caught saying the words in front of a student, his entire reputation would be ruined and then eh would have to reassert his authority over the students again.

Severus stepped into the cluttered office to see that the other professors had already arrived. A monthly meeting, Dumbledore called it. A meeting to ensure that everything was running smoothly. But Severus knew better. These meetings were to assert loyalties, assert the Light. Everybody was susceptible to Dark Magic and although the books on the subject had long been destroyed, Dumbledore still had this irrational paranoia that it might arise again. They had allowed it to fester in Tom Riddle, the Headmaster claimed. Wouldn't it be better to ensure that such a thing never happened again?

So here they were. Just like they had been. Every. Single. Damn. Month.

Why was he on the Light side again?

"Severus! Lemon drop?"

The Potions Master stoically shifted into the room and settled against the back wall close to the door's shadow. The Headmaster should know his answer to such offers by now. He was beginning to think that the whole lemon drop offering was just a distraction or some conniving trick. Oh wait. Not conniving. That was what the _Dark_ did. No, no. The wonderful, amazing, _perfect_ Light couldn't be conniving. No, they were merely _clever_.

When he didn't take the Headmaster up on his offer, the older wizard merely nodded once and placed the piece of candy into his own mouth before proceeding.

"Now that everybody is here, I think we can begin now." He gave them all a single look before continuing, "How are the students?"

"They are the same as ever," Professor McGonagall quickly answered. "My Gryffindors and the Slytherins are as touchy as ever and the Squibs are still studying well with their own studies."

"But that new boy is quite interesting," Professor Flitwick chuckled. "Quiet, you know. Hardly talks in class but he has the highest marks."

"Are you talking about Evans?" mused Professor Sprout. "Oh, he's a delight to have in class. A little silent as dearest Flitwick mentioned there but that's expected, isn't it? He is the first Squib to actually take some magical classes. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that he's the first. I would have thought they would leap at the chance to take some magical classes even if they can't perform the magic themselves."

Dumbledore hadn't moved a muscle yet but Severus could see the way the man's lit up just the smallest fraction at the mention of Hogwart's newest Squib. The Potions Master himself was rather interested in the boy. Everything Pomona had said about the student had been true. The child was quiet, almost eerily so, yet perfect in all of his assignments. It unnerved Severus sometimes to always find nothing wrong with the boy's papers and he was beginning to think the perfect brewing results were not entirely Ms. Greengrass's doing.

"So he is faring well?" Dumbledore asked amiably. Oh, Severus knew that voice. Something about the boy had caught the Light wizard's attention and now he needed information on the new specimen. It just wouldn't do for the Light Lord not to know everything about everybody.

"He's doing…well," murmured one of the non-magical teachers quietly. Severus was actually surprised to hear one of them talk. With all of the well-known witches and wizards in this room, the non-magical teachers had taken to silently listening more than anything. "But he's bloody ridiculous in class, though. Barely scrapes by, really. He's improving, thanks to his friends but he's not exactly the brightest of the bunch. He comes to ask questions after class and they're good questions…but I doubt he actually understands the answers I give him. It's quite above anything he could do at the moment."

"So he is struggling?" summarized Dumbledore.

"Oh, no," spoke up another non-magical teacher (the Mathematics one?). "He's doing well but he's not _exceptional_. He is beginning to achieve perfect scores, though."

Dumbledore was silent for a few moments. Severus could almost see the wheels turning in the man's mind. The entire thing did seem a bit off. How could a Squib, one who had been raised in a _Muggle_ encampment, be so proficient in _magical_ classes but only good enough in his non-magical classes? It was probably due to the surprise of sudden freedom from the Dark Lord's tyranny and maybe the child really did have a knack for magical theory. But Severus was never one for "ifs" and "maybes". If something was just a little bit off, he was suspicious and he knew that Dumbledore was too.

"Keep a good watch on him," Dumbledore finally said. "He probably still needs a little help adjusting."

~0~

Draco Malfoy was proud of who he was. He was proud that he was Dark. He was proud to be a Malfoy. He was proud to be the Malfoy Heir and eventual loyal follower of the Dark Lord.

He knew he was privileged. His family was one of the wealthiest in the world and he had been born into a strong magical legacy. He was often described as arrogant, but he knew his limits and his strengths. It just so happened to be that his strengths far outweighed his limits.

Draco could prove it. He could easily defeat many of the other Death Eater's children and hold his own against even some of the Inner Circle. The Dark Lord himself had once complimented him on his growing skill.

Draco was the epitome of etiquette and finesse. He conducted himself perfectly in every social function and he knew that if his father decided to suddenly hand over the position as Head of the Malfoy House, he could easily manage the position. He had been trained to deal with the political, economic, and social aspects of the job since birth.

Not many people liked him, but Draco could have cared less. Life wasn't a pretty little picture painted with warm, happy colors as the filthy Light liked to imagine. All he cared about was gaining people's respect and acknowledgement of his superiority. And those he had.

Draco respected only a few people in his life and everybody he respected was stronger than himself. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to claim himself to be the best when he wasn't. He was definitely better, but not the best. He would respect those in a higher position until he himself won his way up.

First and foremost, he respected the Dark Lord. Everybody in the Dark did, of course. The man was a living legend, a walking statement of power.

Second, he respected his father. His father was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted advisors and often sat at the Lord's left hand during social meetings. His father had taught Draco almost everything he knew and he wasn't ashamed to admit that his respect bordered on love. Love was a weakness, but how could Draco feel anything else for the very man who had raised him?

After those two, Draco respected his mother, always the perfect image of a woman and strong when challenged. He respected his aunt Bellatrix for her power and ruthlessness despite her obvious madness. He respected anybody of the Inner Circle who he couldn't defeat quite yet.

All of those he respected and rather liked. They gave him advice when he needed it and he was more their student than anything else. They had a good relationship.

The one person he respected but didn't know or feel anything for was the Dark Lord's ward.

Harry Potter. That was one name Draco had learned immediately after he had learned his own. He had known the name even before he had ever learned to say 'Father' or 'Mother' or even 'Dark Lord'. His father had made sure he learned it because if he didn't know and recognize the name and the face that went along with it, he might make the mistake of considering the boy his equal.

Draco had been confused at first. After all, how could a skinny boy his age be any better than he was? But it quickly became obvious that Harry Potter was anything _but_ his equal. Harry was better than him in everything from the very start.

The Dark Lord himself taught Harry. In the earlier years, Draco's own father had taught the Dark Lord's ward in the simpler aspects of magic. But Harry had excelled so quickly that the Dark Lord had taken over the tutoring by the time the boy had reached eight years old. At eight, Draco had only begun his studies.

Draco had been rash and rather silly in his young age. He had despised Harry's excellence and his position in the hierarchy. Draco was high up, but the Dark Lord had made it clear that Harry was only second to himself. Draco had punched the other boy once when they had been about five in a fit of anger and only managed to avoid death after his father suffered through a week's worth of torture under the Dark Lord's own hand. Draco had learned to respect the silver snake adorning all of Harry's clothes marking him above them all after that incident. He hadn't enjoyed watching his father in pain for weeks after the torture.

Draco didn't know why Harry had been so revered, so respected until he finally saw the boy in action when they were thirteen. He had been accompanying his father during a raid for the first time when the revelation hit him. His father had been magnificent, but Harry had been stunning. He wove through enemies like they were beneath him, mere bugs under his shoes. He used spells Draco had never even heard of and commanded the Death Eaters like the Dark Lord would have. The raid had been short, efficient, and devastating. Draco had known, then, that he would undoubtedly lose against Harry in a fight and his fears had only been confirmed when his father had warned him one last time to keep away from the Dark Lord's ward and show respect at all costs.

"That boy is strong. Powerful. You would do well to keep that in mind, Draco. He truly is second only to the Dark Lord. He has already reached levels in the Dark Arts that I have only ever imagined reaching. Remember this, Draco. Harry Potter is not somebody to be trifled with," his father had said.

Draco had kept his distance after that and observed only from afar. He was surprised how much he could see after finally ridding himself of his jealous cloud. Harry truly was brilliant. He wove everybody around his finger and spoke fearlessly to the Dark Lord. The aura of power surrounding him was palpable and that alone could choke anybody into silence if he so wished.

But the power and intelligence wasn't the only thing Draco observed. He finally saw how much Harry meant to the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord would only punish his ward with a small Stinging Hex when he spoke back while he would punish any other Death Eater with nothing less than a Cruciatus. The Lord actually took Harry's words into account in some situations and Draco could see the tentative camaraderie between the two. It certainly wasn't affection or anything disgusting like that. It was respect for each other and a deep understanding.

So it was hardly a surprise to Draco that the Dark Lord had been in a terrible mood ever since Harry had deemed it wise to run away.

Personally, Draco had thought Harry smarter than that. Didn't he know what was waiting for him when they caught him? Once Harry fell back into the Dark Lord's clutches, Draco had a feeling he might finally see the other boy under a Cruciatus.

Draco had little time to actually take pleasure in such a thought. Nobody did. The Dark Lord had been working them into the ground since Harry's departure and he punished for the smallest things. One wrong twitch of the eye and you would be in pain for a week. Nobody could calm the Lord's ire and people were always on their toes now. They were making amazing progress towards their goals, yes, but at a cost. With every passing week without Harry, the Dark Lord seemed to get more and more agitated and more and more Death Eaters walked with a noticeable limp of pain.

Quite frankly, Draco wasn't so sure how much longer this could continue before the Dark Lord snapped. He had never considered the possibility that the Lord would have a weak spot. He had just seemed so godlike before. But now it was clear to almost everybody that the one sore spot for their leader was Harry Potter. If Draco didn't know better, he might have actually called the Dark Lord's mood _worried_.

But everybody knew the Dark Lord never got attached to anything and worried certainly wasn't the word to describe it.

"Draco?"

Draco pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked up to smile at his mother, away from his books he had been studying. "Yes, mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy bit her lip in worry. She hardly ever showed such weakness in her expression and Draco knew that whatever she was going to say next was something to be concerned about.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you now. Alone."

A block of ice settled into Draco's stomach and he was ashamed to admit that he felt the blood draining from his face. But he wasn't stupid enough to say something as silly as "What?" like some parrot. Instead, he took the news in stride as he had been taught to deal with all situations and he merely nodded before brushing past his mother and up towards the Dark Lord's study.

Draco had never been in the Lord's presence alone. The fact that he wanted to see Draco now was something to be nervous about. What had he done wrong? Had he made a mistake? Why did the Dark Lord want to see an underage wizard? Countless questions flashed through Draco's mind but he managed to keep his face poised and unhesitantly knocked upon the study doors when he reached them.

"Enter."

Draco's heart began to beat on overdrive and he prayed that the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to hear it as he stepped inside.

The study was actually rather small in relation to the other grand rooms in the stronghold. It had a mahogany desk with matching chairs emboldened with strokes of emerald painting the walls and the many bookshelves decorating the room. Papers were neatly stacked on the desk and a pleasant fireplace spouting emerald flames warmed the room.

The Dark Lord didn't look up, but motioned for Draco to sit in one of the guest chairs opposite him. After Draco seated himself, the Dark Lord scribbled something on the paper in front of him with his expensive phoenix feather quill for several minutes before finally looking up.

Draco was immediately taken in by the Lord's crimson eyes. They seemed bloody. Deadly. They never held any hint of what the man was feeling or thinking (since he probably didn't _feel_ much) and they literally bled power. Sometimes, Harry's Avada Kedavra eyes bled that same power.

"You are aware of my ward's absence?"

Draco stiffened. Anything relating to Harry made his Lord touchy nowadays. He had to be careful. "Yes, my Lord."

The Dark Lord pursed his lips and steepled his fingers. "How are your studies coming along?"

Draco was startled by the change of subject but he quickly answered, "Sufficient, my Lord."

"How far are you in your Dark Arts?"

"I have reached the seventh degree of runes required in runes and I have recently finished _The Arte of Soul Magicks._" Where was this going?

His Lord nodded slowly and then rose to face the window behind him. The sun was just beginning to dip its head beneath the horizon and its colorful rays painted the sky a mix of reds and oranges. The hues outlined the Dark Lord's figure and Draco's breath hitched at the magnificence. He was struck with a fierce pride in the side he chose. How could anything beat this? This power?

"If I asked you to commit to an assignment right now, would you do it?"

Draco didn't even hesitate. "Yes, my Lord."

"Even if I asked you to leave immediately after this meeting? If I asked you to leave without speaking to anybody…not even your family?"

Draco felt a slight hesitation at the mention of working behind his family, but he nodded and said again, "Yes, my Lord."

His Lord's lips twitched upwards. "Youth. So refreshing." He nodded once and turned to look at Draco in the eyes. "Your assignment is to search and retrieve my ward."

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Draco had spent his entire life being told that Harry was better, higher. He was always first in everything. Now, even when he wasn't here, Harry took his first assignment. But how could he refuse now? He had told his Lord he would do as commanded and he would. Even if it meant chasing after Harry Potter.

"Know, Draco, that if you fail in this…I shall punish you just as I punish my own Inner Circle. This assignment is of the utmost importance. You cannot allow others to know of your assignment. You must do this without anybody's knowledge. Alone."

Draco shivered but he numbly nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

He might have been imagining it in the setting sun, but Draco could have sworn that a spark of approval lit those crimson eyes.

"You have an hour to prepare, Draco. And do not get caught. I'd hate to have to hear of your disappearance from another's mouth…"

Draco bowed once on his way out and quietly shut the study room's door behind him. His eyes scanned the darkening halls for any sign of movement before he swiftly strode towards his quarters to prepare.

The Dark Lord hadn't given him a time limit, but Harry could be anywhere in the world. For all he knew, it would take him years to locate the Dark Lord's ward.

When Draco was finished with this, he was going to punch Harry in the face again – death sentence or not.

* * *

><p><strong>Draco! I know I wrote this entire blurb about him in my previous version of this chapter but, being the lazy person I am, I'm not going to rewrite it. Just shoot me questions or doubts if you have them :) <strong>

**Happy 4th of July! The day America gained its independence! I look out my balcony and see at least ten different areas shooting off colorful sparkles of celebration. I also had korean barbecue today. YAY! **


	9. A Secret in the Girl's Bathroom

******IF YOU HAVEN'T REREAD CHAPTER 8 YET, GO BACK AND READ IT. I COMPLETELY CHANGED EVERYTHING (EXCEPT FOR DRACO'S SECTION).******

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

And if you forgot again, Parseltongue = **"Bold"**

* * *

><p>Harry gently ran a finger along cool metal. The distinct indention of a snake surreptitiously beckoned to him and a wry smile graced his lips.<p>

So, Timothy was good for something after all.

Harry had been enduring one day too many with the non-magicals and his magic was beginning to become restless. Going for months on end with the non-magicals had begun to wear on his nerves and his control had been fraying at the edges. So when Timothy came springing out of physical education, babbling nonsense about winning against the seventh years and offering Harry one of his sympathetic smiles, Harry had taken a quick escape. Oddly enough, the first free area he had found himself in was the girl's bathroom on the second floor.

Harry was ashamed to admit that it had taken fifteen minutes alone in the bathroom to figure out that something was off. Having absorbed a piece of the Tom's soul, he had moments when some unbidden knowledge would hit him, something that only the Dark Lord could know. Harry had been so suffocated and stifled with the Light atmosphere that it had taken _fifteen minutes_. Fifteen minutes. Back in the Dark, he could recognize and act upon such impulses within seconds. Honestly, Harry was beginning to wonder whether this whole escaping to the Light plan had been his most brilliant one.

Timothy's infuriating attitude had driven Harry to this bathroom. In a twisted way, Harry was a slightly indebted to the Squib.

Tom had never mentioned a…Chamber of Secrets before. Harry raised his eyebrows as the name came unbidden to his mind and almost laughed aloud. Really, the _Chamber of Secrets_? Couldn't Slytherin have been a little more inventive? You just didn't go around naming your secret hideout the Chamber of Secrets if you didn't want other people poking their head in.

But silly name or not, Harry had finally found a sanctuary all to himself. Perhaps good, old Slytherin was watching him from above (or below).

"**Open**."

A mere moment later, Harry was staring down a grimy and gigantic pipeline leading down into the depths of the castle. Interesting. Not only did the great Parseltongue founder deem it wise to name a secret chamber the Chamber of Secrets, he had also decided that a great, disgusting slide was the way to travel. Marvelous.

In a way, it was rather hilarious to see how wrong Tom was about his (their) great ancestor. The way his guardian painted it, Slytherin had been a man of great dignity, always poised, perfect, and stoic. Just like Tom behaved day in and day out. From the way things were looking, Slytherin hadn't been quite the humorless character Harry had thought him to be. What kind of dead-serious man made the entrance to his majestic chamber a _slide_?

Harry chuckled to himself and decided to oblige the Founder's little joke. Perhaps there was a way to call stairs if he said so in Parseltongue, but where was the fun in that? He'd get slime all over his robes, but that was what the House Elves were for. They would do anything you wanted…if you knew how to play them just right. One innocent smile, one "thank you", and soon the entire elf population worshipped you. It had been so easy to manipulate them into his favor that it hadn't even been funny.

Harry grinned and jumped down the chute after quickly murmuring, "**Close**." He didn't want anybody following him, right? How silly would if be if he forgot to close the entrance after himself?

It was a little embarrassing to admit that the slide down _was_ fun. It went against everything he had been taught in terms of etiquette, but Harry figured that he deserved a little laugh once in a while. Tom just didn't know how to enjoy the cruder details of life sometimes.

Harry's little bout of self-weakness disappeared when he reached the bottom though. He was actually rather disgusted to find nothing beneath his shoes but brittle bones of long-dead animals (and people?). He winced as one particularly fragile skull shattered underneath his weight and pressed a hand to his scar as a brief memory of a gigantic snake flitted across his mind.

So Slytherin had kept a _Basilisk_ down here. In a way, it made complete sense. The man was a Parselmouth. Of course he would choose the King of the Snakes. Another smile graced Harry's lips and he allowed his hand to fall away from his forehead to idly swing at his side as he made his way further into the chamber's depths.

It was cold and damp down here. Harry could feel the moisture clinging to his skin and it was difficult to see anything in the dim light (and where the light came from, Harry had no idea). It might have been a terrible place for a normal snake to live, but Basilisks loved the colder weather and preferred darker, wetter environments where they could best raise their young. Harry was rather excited to see the one residing underneath Hogwarts's very structure. He knew he had nothing to fear from the creature and he had grown up with the gift of Parseltongue. He had always loved snakes and Nagini had been a kind companion during some of Tom's harsher moods.

Harry came to stop at a large, circular door adorned with metal snakes. He curiously stared at the wiry forms and noted the glittering rubies that acted as eyes.

"**Open."**

One by one, the snakes slithered inward and the locking mechanism automatically unlatched and the entrance swung open of its own accord. Well, at least now Harry knew where Tom had gotten his flair. Slytherin certainly did know how to make his little hideout interesting.

The very first thing Harry noticed when he stepped into the actual chamber wasn't the gigantic carving of an ancient man's face in the rock at the end of the hall. Nor did he notice the gigantic columns carved into the shape of snakes lining the walkway or the elegant architecture that adorned the roof. He didn't notice any of the grandeur or the magnificence of the place. All that was inconsequential, _miniscule_, compared to the euphoria that suddenly swept through him.

Harry had been going for weeks without his magic. He hadn't been able to do more than touch it before something rebuffed him and kept him away. At first, it had been a mere inconvenience. Something to ignore to achieve his larger goal. But after some time, Harry had begun to long for the power that was rightfully his and he had begun to go mad without it. Every time he saw somebody perform magic, he felt a deep longing in his soul to do the same and it frustrated him to no end. He missed his magic. He missed the ability to create miracles just by the sweep of a hand. He missed it all.

But more than anything, he had missed the Dark.

Harry had grown up surrounded with it. Even before he had been able to control his magic, the Darkness had always welcomed him, loved him. He _knew_ it and it knew him. Sometimes he hated it, hated its addictiveness and seduction. Other times, he couldn't live without it.

How much of that came from his environment and Tom's soul? How much of that was actually _his_? Harry was hardly squeamish, but sometimes the way Tom dealt with his enemies and followers just didn't sit right with him. He had learned to ignore it, to even enjoy such methods of discipline, but something just always came back to remind him that something was a little off.

But it was too late now for something as silly as a conversion to the Light. Maybe, if Harry was lucky enough, he could learn to use Light magic as well. He was learning the theory well enough in classes now. Performing it was another thing altogether. Would his body even allow it? Harry had never had a chance to try it out back in the Dark territory because Tom had always forbidden it. Maybe here, he could learn to use it. Learn to use it, but never actually become to devoted to it. Harry knew himself better than that. The Darkness had too firm a hold in him already. At best, he could learn Light magic, but his soul would forever belong to the Dark.

Harry sometimes didn't know whether he wanted to rejoice or weep at such a prospect.

But all such thoughts disappeared from his mind the second he stepped inside chamber. The very second his feet had touched the stone floor, whatever restraint that had been keeping his magic back had vanished and now Harry could taste his power, his birthright, again.

A hiss of pleasure escaped his lips and he allowed the Darkness to caress his body.

Really, it had been too long.

Almost as if in response to his regained control of magic, the torches attached to the snake columns roared to life with black fire and an eerie glow of dark light illuminated the chamber to an appropriate level.

If Slytherin had been alive, Harry would have kissed the man. The wizard hadn't made this place just for his own claim and Basilisk. No, he had made it so that any descendant of his could still attend Hogwarts and continue their Dark magical heritage to their own liking. Harry just _knew_ that any Dark magic performed down here would go undetected from above. After all, the great Light barrier that Dumbledore had erected didn't apply down here. Down here, nothing could touch its true purpose and true nature.

A smirk found its way on to Harry's face and he strode down the stone pathway with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. The air surrounding him throbbed with magic just waiting to be used and he could taste that sweet chocolate that always seemed to come with it. His shoes made no sound as he walked and his grimy robes were clean with one glance. The carved snakes came to life as he passed and soon, he could hear their whispers and their greetings.

Suddenly, a much larger his magic sensed a larger presence in the hall and the smirk already on Harry's face grew ever wider. Gigantic coils the width of a twenty people smoothly surrounded him and the other snake carvings grew silent in the face of their ruler.

"**Greetings, Slytherin's heir," **a distinctly _female_ voice hissed into his ear. **"It has been a while since you have returned. I have been so ever **_**bored**_**."** Harry felt a tongue flicker for the briefest of moments against his face. **"But you…smell different. The same, yet different."**

Harry turned to face the Basilisk and he almost gasped at _her _beauty. Her scales were a brilliant, deep shade of green and she was so massive she seemed to barely fit within the hall's confines. Her second eyelids were closed, allowing him to look at her in the eye without fear of instant death.

"**I am the same. Just a different person."** Harry's smirk turned almost gentle and he reached his hands out to stroke her lowered head. **"I suppose you could say that I am only…a piece of the heir you once knew."**

A sigh almost seemed to come from the gigantic snake's mouth. **"That is a pity. I rather liked the whole you."**

"**Don't worry," **Harry grinned. **"I think you're going to like **_**this**_** version of me a lot better." **

The Basilisk laughed (if a sort of jolted hiss could count as a snake's laugh) and reared her head higher, away from Harry's hands. **"Indeed. Either way, I am rather pleased to finally have company."**

Harry liked this Basilisk. She was definitely better company than anybody he had yet to meet. **"May I ask your name?"**

"**I do not have one," **she said. **"My first master did not name me and your whole self did not name me. I find a name unnecessary and rather tedious to remember."**

Harry was a little surprised. He would have thought such a noble creature would have a name. But names were power and perhaps Slytherin had wanted his Basilisk to be loyal to his line only and a lack of name would prevent any other accidental wizard from changing that.

"**If that is your wish."**

She nodded her massive head and quietly looked at Harry for a moment before asking, **"I am assuming you know your way around?"**

Another memory flashed, this time a layout, a mental map of the chamber and its maze-like structure beyond the grand hall. Harry blinked and a vision of falling rocks, closing off a certain room blinded him for a moment.

"**Did I…block a room by any chance?"**

"**You did. Before you left the Chamber after your last visit here, you decided to take all of my first master's materials from the study and collapsed the room in case of any future wanderers."**

Harry pursed his lips in annoyance. So _this_ was where his guardian had found all of those scrolls and books. Harry had always wondered. But did Tom really have to be so paranoid all the time? Now that he had taken all of Slytherin's private books and notes for his own, Harry couldn't study them here.

He spun on his heel and strode towards the eastern wall. **"I think I shall go visit that room and salvage what I can."**

The Basilisk didn't reply but hummed in acknowledgement before slowly uncoiling herself and following.

Harry found the collapsed room quickly enough, especially since he had the entire layout in his head thanks to Tom. Had he been anybody else, he would have been hopelessly lost by now if the Basilisk hadn't already killed him on the spot.

Harry turned a corner to see a mass of the passageway abruptly cut off in an avalanche of rocks. He curiously looked at it and then trailed its source to the roof of the area. It seemed like a stroke of pure luck had kept the place from falling in on itself all these years. Yes, there were rocks blocking the way but the actual passage itself could be repaired. Had the roof caved in like it should have, Harry had no doubt that the rest of Hogwarts would have noticed a section of its floor sinking in.

Harry was fairly sure that he wouldn't find anything of great value if he cleared it up. Tom was thorough and he had most likely left nothing behind to find. But it was probably worth and a try and he didn't want to run the risk of the roof actually caving in and losing his only sanctuary in a world filled with Light.

Harry envisioned the rocks returning to their original positions and sent his magic to do its work with a wave of his hand. In a matter of seconds, the entire passage was clear, the rocks all in their perfect places and a neat wooden door waiting slightly ajar for him at the end of the corridor.

"**You are certainly just as powerful as you were when you were whole. I missed the taste of power,"** the Basilisk murmured.

Harry couldn't stop a smug smile and he felt the chamber's Dark magic weave itself around him in soothing layers. **"I'm flattered." **He strode towards the door and opened it before peered inside with a slight flutter of anticipation.

There were multiple desks in a moderately sized room scattered in seemingly random spots. Empty bookshelves lining the walls were even more abundantly placed and a mass of parchment lay strewn about in a strange chaotic order. A single, elegant bed was almost carelessly shoved in the right corner of the room and there was a door adjacent to it that Harry suddenly knew led to the bathroom. The entire color scheme was, of course, silver and emerald and a black fire flickered into existence at the fireplace close to the bed as he scanned the room.

Harry felt like he had died and gone to heaven despite the obvious lack of material in the bookshelves. This was almost exactly like his room had been like back in the Dark territory. Harry had never been one for large, ostentatious rooms and moderately sized ones like these suited him better.

Harry stumbled forward a bit as the Basilisk nudged her head inside and eyed the place.

"**You even completely fixed the room to its previous state. It is exactly as you left it after taking the notes and books."**

Harry felt a little twitchy at being addressed as if he were Tom, but, in a sense, he was. It didn't mean he liked being addressed as such.

"**I go by Harry now. I would be very pleased if you called me such."**

The gigantic snake gave him a look that almost seemed skeptical. **"Such a commoner's name. Are you sure?"**

A quick flash of irritation flared through him. **"I am **_**completely**_** sure."**

The Basilisk seemed to sense his mood switch and nodded wordlessly before departing, leaving Harry alone. He actually felt a little guilty at snapping at her, but he had never taken references to his lower pedigree very well. It probably had a lot to do with his damned upbringing again.

But such remorse quickly disappeared as his magic stirred restlessly again and he grinned to himself.

Now that he was alone and his magic free again, perhaps a review of his magical repertoire would do nicely…

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><p><strong>Alright, before you spear my head off...I know this was a ridiculously short chapter. It really was. I planned on making it longer but I was just taking so long to do so that I just decided to post whatever I had so far :(<strong>

**You're probably wondering why I didn't name the Basilisk. Truth to be told, I just couldn't come up with one. Half I came up with sounded too "holier than thou" and the other half sounded too girly. It just wouldn't work. And besides, the Basilisk is a great, mystical creature. No point in making it overly familiar, I suppose. But if you REALLY want a name I suppose I could just plant one in later. **

**And for those of you begging for Harry to get his magic back...happy day for you :P Even though it IS only in the chamber for now and he wouldn't be able to flash it about in all its glory for others to gawk at him. But all in due time, all in due time ;)**

**Just curious...what do you want next chapter: Draco, Snape, Voldemort, Timothy, Astoria, Blaise, or Ron? There's going to be Harry, of course. I just wanted to know who you guys wanted to read more about and maybe work from there :)**

**And thanks to all my reviewers again! It's one of my greatest motivations besides just simple pleasure in writing this weird story XD**


	10. Beg for Me

**I do not own Harry Potter (or anything else that would get me sued).**

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><p>"<em>It suits you."<em>

_Harry pursed his lips and eyed his reflection in the mirror. He had never enjoyed dressing up and it often amused his guardian to no end when he was forced to do so. The elaborate robes made Harry feel heavy and gaudy but he had long since learned to deal with it. Such attire was the status quo and it was almost public suicide not to abide by it. Keeping up with and topping the latest styles were a painful part of the intricate maneuverings within the Dark hierarchy but Harry knew it was necessary. _

_But he had never been one to go __completely__ with the wave and, more often than not, found ways to twist a situation into one he preferred. _

_So Harry had made a point of going simply but elegantly. He had the needed layers and silks and leathers, but the ruffles, capes, and accessories were kept at a minimum. His robes were made of the finest materials available and the designs unique but there was nothing ever excessive about them. It had taken Harry quite a while to find the right tailor to abide by his wishes and even longer to convince Tom that whatever he wore was appropriate. The very first time he had arrived to a public event with his simplistic style, the majority had been slightly shocked at the lack of glitter and shine but almost everybody had to agree that it suited Harry. The people who spoke to him quickly came to recognize his strange roundabout bluntness and it only made sense that his attire suited his personality. _

_Harry was wearing his customary black with emerald trimmings. Very rarely did he deviate from those two colors, mostly because of Tom's preferences, but tonight was his "inauguration" of sorts. Tonight, silver platinum was threaded into his robes to form elegant snakes bordering his sleeves and various other locations that the tailor had deemed fit. _

_Harry had always had a snake embroidered somewhere on his visage, but it had only been a small symbol. One only noticed it if one were searching for it and that was what Tom had wanted for the last few years. Harry had been attending public events with his guardian since he was five but nobody had ever known that he had come with Tom and he had only remained a wallflower, observing as the Dark Lord instructed. For seven years, Harry watched as his guardian's followers vied for attention and power amongst each other, noticing how subtle and dangerous each exchange and conversation was. One misspoken word and the next day you might find yourself completely bereft and poorer than the poorest beggar. Literally. Harry had seen it happen, especially to those that the Inner Circle or Tom himself didn't particularly like._

_Sometimes, Harry himself instigated such happenings at the Dark Lord's orders but those had been rare events. Most of the time, Harry was just there to watch and Tom would quiz his afterward on the smallest of details in order to ensure that his ward had done as asked. The very first time Tom had quizzed him, Harry had failed miserably and punished accordingly. The punishment hadn't been pleasant to say the least and he had never failed another questioning again. _

_Harry still found the public events tedious and excessively boring but he had learned to derive a certain vindictive pleasure at knowing things many didn't from his observations. Sometimes, Harry had been tempted to test his own finesse in the arena, but Tom had always forbidden him from doing anything to catch attention. He had never explained why, but Harry knew that, at the time, his guardian wanted to keep his little Horcrux a secret. He hadn't wanted a part of his soul in danger. _

_But it was different now. Harry wasn't five anymore and he wasn't so vulnerable. Quite the contrary after four years of studying the Dark Arts under the Dark Lord himself. Harry had found the subject enrapturing and disturbing at the same time. It was very much like looking at something revolting enough to disgust yet fascinating enough to make one unable to look away. It had helped to discover he had an affinity for it and Harry often surprised not only himself, but also the Tom at times with his ability to soak up skills like a sponge. _

"_I always did like green on you," Tom continued from the doorway. "Matches your pretty little eyes." _

_Harry let out a sigh of exasperation and eyed his guardian's reflection in the mirror. "You've said that so many times already."_

"_I enjoy voicing my sentiments," the Dark Lord grinned. Amusement flickered in his crimson eyes. "And I now see that silver complements you quite nicely as well. Perhaps I should have had you wear it more often."_

_Harry tugged at his sleeves, trying not to stare at the embroidered snakes. "Silver __is__ quite a change. Perhaps it has something to do with your decision regarding my role in tonight's gala?" _

"_It is not a gala, Harry. It is a formal meeting among my associates that I have chosen to attend."_

_The Dark Lord's ward smirked. "Really? I would have thought otherwise with those ridiculously fluffy dresses and particularly feminine accents on those suits. Formal meetings don't have a orchestras performing for dancing or tables filled with food."_

"_If you wish to see it that way then I will not stop you," Tom shrugged. "So long as you keep to your role and play it well."_

_Harry turned away from the mirror to face his guardian and crossed his arms. "Why have you chosen now, of all times, to go to an event like this with me __openly__ at your side? It's Christmas and I know how much you hate this time of year." It was true. Harry knew for a fact that Tom's birthday was around this time and he had taken to being a rather ornery character. It had never actually bothered Harry. He had never seen a Christmas with a fancy tree or presents. He only saw this time of year as a time to placate Tom at all costs. "Why reveal that you have a ward now to everybody outside of your closer lackeys? I thought you wanted to keep me your own secret from those who weren't close enough to you."_

"_All in due time," Tom dismissed. "Perhaps it isn't the only reason, but for the majority, I just decided that you were ready."_

"_You mean I can actually cover my bullocks now when some bloody lunatic decides to attack me as an indirect attack at you."_

_The Dark Lord smiled brilliantly. "You really aren't as dull as I thought you were, Harry. You are correct…just not completely." He allowed a hint of contempt to lace his last words and glanced down at his feet where Nagini had decided to appear. Tom's eyes softened the tiniest bit at his familiar's form before looking back up at Harry. "But that is besides the point. You know what to do, correct?"_

_Harry sighed. "Arrive with you, smile, act as the perfect charge, and try not to kill the particularly annoying insects that mindlessly follow you."_

_Tom nodded. "Good. And make sure you keep to those instructions."_

_Harry struggled to keep from rolling eyes. Really. Did Tom actually believe that he would do anything else? Harry hadn't been punished for anything in months. Why did he think his Horcrux would act up now? If worst came to worst, Tom could always control him through possession if he did anything incorrectly. But that was unlikely to happen because the one time the Dark Lord had to control Harry that way, he had made sure Harry was properly humiliated and tortured as he would have any other Death Eater. It was the first and only time Harry had been treated as just another follower and he still had the scars to prove it. _

"_**Master,"**__ Nagini hissed up at Tom. __**"The Grand Hall is now filled with your underlings. The last of them arrived just moments ago."**_

"_**Thank you, Nagini. Would you like to take part in tonight's events?"**_

_The great, black snake snorted in derision and gave her master a look that a parent might give a child who had just asked whether the tooth fairy existed or not. (Although that was a rather poor idiom given that the tooth fairy really did exist. Harry had taken it upon himself to catch her one night when he had been about six and gained not just a sickle, but several galleons in exchange for his silence on the matter.) __**"I would not enjoy and entire evening with those wanton creatures. They only smell of the crudest prey and are not worth my attention."**_

_Tom actually laughed a little at the statement. He had been receiving the same reply for as long as Harry could remember. __**"Very well. Enjoy your time away from those crude creatures you so apparently despise."**_

_As Nagini slithered away, the Dark Lord stepped away from the door and said, "I expect to see you at the Great Hall's entrance in five minutes."_

_Harry didn't reply. He didn't have to. Tom knew he would obey. Harry frowned and let out another sigh before surreptitiously glancing running a hand over a left pocket deftly hidden within the folds of his robes. The familiar size of a small parcel greeted his touch and he nervously bit his lips. Was tonight really a good night to do it? Was it wise when Harry knew his guardian's traditional black mood at this time of year? _

_Harry shook his head and turned away from the dilemma for the time being. Right now he had to compose himself to finally reveal himself before the public as the Dark Lord's charge and protégé. He couldn't look weak. He couldn't have the smallest crack in his presentation tonight. Anything less than perfection would be a disaster because this was the impression that would stick with Tom's followers from now on and Tom wanted only the very best from anything that was associated with him. _

_Precisely five minutes later found Harry at the Dark Lord's side before the Great Hall's entrance. He walked up to his guardian and glanced at him from the corners of his eyes but when the older man said nothing, Harry quietly stood, awaiting command. _

_The two of them stood in an odd sort of silent companionship. Their moments of eerie understanding (which Harry thought courtesy of the their shared souls) came at the oddest of times but sometimes it was moments like these that eased Harry's doubts. Doubts like whether he would fare better on the Light side or if he actually liked his life here plagued him still and were the reasons why he had yet to completely absorb the piece of Tom's soul residing in him. In order for Harry to actually be a single person with Tom's soul actually a part of his, he had to accept his place here, accept Tom completely. Only then, Harry knew, could the souls be combined and he a single person. _

_At times, Harry feared that it would never happen. He knew Tom too well, knew just how incapable he was of empathy and concern for anybody but himself. This knowledge and countless other quirks and facets of his guardian's personality and character kept Harry from fully accepting the extra soul within him. Tom realized this too but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fundamentally change himself. So he waited it out and allowed Harry the time he needed. Harry was the only person Tom was patient for in that aspect and while it was for the sake of completing the Horcrux, the action still gave Harry a sort of comfort and hope. _

"_Remember my expectations," Tom murmured. _

_Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts and quickly nodded. "Of course." _

_Tom gave his ward one last appraising look before taking a step forward and wandlessly opening the double doors with only the barest twitch of his fingers. Harry immediately fell into step just behind the man and together they entered. _

_The Dark Lord and his Horcrux. _

_~0~_

Forget punching. Draco was prepared to Avada Kedavra the living hell out of Harry bloody Potter.

He had set off as his Master had decreed: unnoticed, prepared, and silent. Nobody, not even the house elves, had been privy to his mission and he had been gone from the Dark Lord's stronghold before the sun had set. In all honesty, Draco had been rather optimistic by the time he had taken to the road. He had everything he thought any tracker could need and the thought of actually accomplishing his goal meant raising his position in the Dark Lord's eyes. The idea was a brilliant way to encourage him, but just a few hours later, after setting up camp and protective wards, Draco had to actually face the facts.

Fact number one: Harry had nearly half a year's head start.

Fact number two: Half a year's head start meant Harry could be literally anywhere in the world.

Fact number three: It could take months to find even a clue of Harry's whereabouts.

Fact number four: Even if he did find Harry, he had to convince the other to come back.

Fact number five: Convincing would probably go beyond conversational standards and into an actual fight.

Fact number six: Harry was probably the most accomplished wizard Draco had yet to see after the Dark Lord himself.

Fact number seven: Draco would probably end up losing and completely incapable of bringing back what the Dark Lord wanted.

Fact number eight: Without completing the task, he was a dead man.

Needless to say, Draco had quickly fallen back into a sullen mood. His black disposition was only heightened when the weather took a decidedly negative turn. His wards kept the rain from pattering his clearing but it did nothing to mask the sound. He couldn't sleep for the life of him because his entire life had been spent in some castle or another where bad weather was charmed to overlook the area completely. But such charms were too taxing for a single wizard alone (except for the Dark Lord and maybe even Potter) so Draco was forced to endure.

By the next morning, he was forced to face the dilemma of black rings under his eyes for the first time in his life and grumpily began the business of locating the source of his problems.

The big question was, of course, where would Harry have gone? Perhaps to another country? Or was he going for the reverse psychology and remaining close by in order to thwart anybody following him? Draco had a strong inclination for the latter. He might have grown up harboring an unhealthy dislike for the Dark Lord's ward, but he had known that the boy had always had a strange sense of humor. He enjoyed deriving pleasure from his duties and wouldn't staking it out right underneath the Dark's nose be the ultimate irony?

Draco's lips had curled in dark amusement at the thought and quickly decided that while it was a plausible conclusion, he had too little evidence and indicators to know for sure. The best chance he had was to question the nearby towns and people for any sightings of a lanky black-haired fifteen year old with emerald eyes. Draco was just relieved that Apparating was out of the question. Harry had been secluded within the Dark Lord's stronghold even more so than Draco had been. Apparating involved knowing where one was going and Harry couldn't Apparate if he didn't know anything outside of his own home.

That plan of action gave Draco a something to go off of and it put his spirits back up but something above had it in for him because nothing had gone right from then on.

He had traveled to the nearest town, prepared to ask the tavern or hotel keeper for any sightings. It was all prepared in his mind's eye but halfway to his destination, the weather decided to hate him again. There were spells for deflecting elements but Draco had never actually learned things like that outside of the wards for stationary areas. He had been practically raised in royalty and there was never a need to learn such trivial spells when he could be learning more lethal ones better suited to duels and magical battles. Trudging his way through the weather, Draco swore to himself that he would get his hands on the nearest book for household and traveling spells.

Just as he had arrived in the town and merely a block away from a suitable place to ask for any sightings, a rag-tag group of ruffians had tried to mug him. In his irritation, Draco had left a few bleeding profusely in the mud and the rest limping away with various fractures. It had given him a vague sense of satisfaction but cursed his luck a moment later when he realized that he had not only revealed his status to whomever might have been watching but also eliminated any chance of obtaining information from the townsfolk. They were most likely unwilling to talk to a boy of fifteen who had easily trounced a group of grown men.

Draco was right and any abode he tried to enter or ask for information, he was turned away. He almost suspected the town of magic because the news spread so quickly but he, of all people, knew that gossip traveled faster than Apparition at times.

Then, to his annoyance, a girl about a year or two older than himself had the gumption to walk up to him and ask him if he were capable of healing. He had informed the girl that of course he could heal. He had to know. His father had always impressed upon him the importance of knowing how to fix oneself if hurt in battle.

The girl had nervously asked for his help. Her mother had taken a tumble earlier in the day and needed attention. Draco had nearly turned her away but the words died on his lips when the request came with the promise of lodging and nourishment until the treatment was finished.

Well, Draco wasn't one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth.

So that was how he currently found himself dripping wet and standing in the smallest house he had ever had the misfortune of residing in.

"Sir," the girl murmured. "I will get supper prepared while you take a look at my mother."

Draco stiffly nodded and struggled to keep from asking if she was Muggle or magical. If he asked and received the wrong answer, he might say something that would land him back outside in the miserable weather and away from the last possible source of information he might have in the town.

The girl led him into a room adjacent to the one they had been standing in. It was completely dark save for a single candle flickering ever so faintly in the corner on a stood beside a low bed. Draco saw a thin woman with straggled brown hair like her daughter's lying in feverish repose and he shivered the slightest bit as the candle beside her head cast a phantom of shadows across her face.

"If you need anything, please call me," the girl murmured quietly before scurrying out the room.

Draco watched her go and let out a tired sigh. Just yesterday he was studying peacefully in his favorite leather chair, dry and content as he could be. Now, barely twenty-four hours later, he was soaked and embroiled in a mission that had begun to seem rather bleak. A part of him almost wished he had mentioned all of this to his family before leaving.

He shook his head and briskly pulled his wand out of its holster strapped to his arm and cast a drying spell. (Okay, maybe he did know some mundane spells. How else was he supposed to get his hair to the perfection that it was?) Then he eyed the unconscious woman on the meager bed and softly walked over to take a closer look.

Her brow was slick with sweat and her breaths rather short. When he pressed a hand to her skin, he found that she was burning up and her eyes fluttered frantically as if she were suffering from a terrible dream. It was obvious that she was suffering from a fever of sorts but he couldn't quite pinpoint he main problem. Fevers were easy to fix with a simple potion or two. But something about the woman seemed a little more severe than just a simple fever.

Draco pursed his lips and muttered a quick _Ferula_ to ease whatever pains the woman might be experiencing before stepping out of the room. He cast a quick glance in the room adjacent where he had first stepped in but saw no sign of the other girl. An exasperated sigh escaped his mouth before he caught sight of another door at the other end of the room and strode over to open it.

Inside was obviously a kitchen with the clutter of various pots and pans and a tiny stove that the girl stood stooped over in curious concentration. Draco had on idea that cooking required that much attention but then again he had never actually walked into a kitchen before.

He watched her from the doorway, curious to see how long he could stand there and remain unnoticed. But then the image of the sickly woman flashed in his mind again and he sighed. She had not looked very good and Draco knew that every second could count. He could have honestly cared less if a commoner like her survived or not but if she died, the girl would most likely be less inclined to reveal information that he needed.

"Hey, could you tell me –"

The girl yelped and jumped, tipping over the pot she had brewing on the stove and spilling the contents on to the floor. It seemed like a rather unappetizing mixture of vegetables and broth of some sort, something Draco would have rather died than eat, but it seemed like the only thing the girl had worth preparing so he played gracious and pulled out his wand to make the pot and its contents revert back to its original position on the stove with a simple flick.

Finished with that task, Draco turned to address the girl again but stopped at the other's expression. A mixture of terror and _familiarity _twisted her features and she nervously averted her gaze to the floor upon eye contact.

Well. That pretty much gave Draco the answer as to whether she was Muggle or not. He had had an inkling that she was magical. The Dark Lord had spelled the entire Dark domain to automatically erase any Muggle memory of magic in order to ensure their complacency and no Muggle would have walked up to him after that display of magic. They would have forgotten about the "fight" and, therefore, himself. Even those he questioned afterward forgot him once the conversation between them was completed. But the girl had walked up to him of her own accord and that in itself had queued Draco into her magical ability. Given, it wasn't much of one but magic was magic and that was why Draco was here.

Wizards and witches not registered as an official follower of the Dark Lord were not allowed their own wands nor any magical supplies. Draco knew for a fact that this girl nor her mother had any access to such objects and therefore he decided to ignore her reaction. If she really did have a wand to help herself with it all, she would not have been living in such a hovel. It was most likely that she had never had any formal training at all and only had moments of uncontrollable magic.

"Could you tell me exactly how your mother hurt herself?" Draco said again.

The girl straightened up, flustered and replied, "She likes her flowers, my Mum…and there's an awful pretty area nearby that has a whole field of them. But it's right next to a drop-off, see, and sometimes my Mum can get a little addled when she is occupied and she wasn't watching her step. And fell."

Draco crossed his arms. "No, I meant exactly _how_ she he hurt herself. As in did she fall on her arm, on her leg, or on her head, perhaps?"

The girl wrung her hands and licked her lips. "I don't really know. I didn't see her fall. I went out searching for her sometime later in the day when she didn't return for lunch and found her hurt and all."

That couldn't have been any less helpful. Draco was tempted to growl and wring the girl's neck for her obliviousness but he restrained himself and nodded curtly before returning to the sick woman's room. So the only thing he had to go off of was that the woman had fallen from something akin to a cliff and had been in this state for who knows how long. Draco knelt beside the woman's bed (really, the floor seemed absolutely filthy and h would probably have to clean his clothes later) and pressed fingers to the vein along the neck. It fluttered weakly but at least it wasn't erratic. So he at least had some time to figure this out.

Draco ran his wand along her arm and pulled back the blanket to examine the rest of her body. The statistics projected from his findings displayed only a few fractures here and there but nothing particularly serious. He frowned and furrowed his brow. Where was the injury then? Surely there was something more serious that had the woman in this state. He tapped his wand to his lips in thought, a habit he had picked up during those countless nights of studying. If the diagnosis showed nothing then…

_Oh_.

Draco suddenly felt completely stupid.

Where was the one place he _hadn't_ scanned his wand over? It was the woman's _head_ which, considering that she had fallen out of her absentmindedness, had been one of the more likely spots to hit a hard surface.

Draco scowled at his lapse and quickly conjured a ball of light to brighten the room further and examined the woman's scalp. Sure enough, he quickly ran into a small but infected laceration towards the forehead. The blood was dried and brown, the exact same color as the woman's hair, which was probably why her daughter had failed to see the injury first thing. Draco was tempted to pull out some Dittany to speed up the job but he knew that he shouldn't waste it now. It was meant for dire situations and this woman did not need it. It would take much longer to heal, but she would live and now Draco could safely claim her stable and gain the information he needed from the girl. He swiftly murmured an anti-infection spell at the wound and a _Vulnera Sanentur, _examining the area one last time for any other larger wound. Then he quickly fixed up the minor fractures throughout the rest of the body and exited just in time to bump into the girl just about to enter the room.

"Ah! Oh..Oh I'm very sorry about that. I –"

"It's alright," Draco interrupted. He wasn't in the mood to hear her apologies. "Your mother will be fine. She hit her head but she will recover so long as she remains in bed a good week or two. Make sure she receives plenty of water and decent food and make sure she doesn't push herself. If she begins to have headaches or feel moments of dizziness, send her right back to bed and make her rest longer."

The girl gaped at him for a few moments before snapping out of her initial surprise and stuttering, "Ah, um, thank you so much! I-I don't know how to thank you enough for this."

"The food and lodging you offered me for tonight sounded good enough payment."

The girl looked up at him in surprise again before ducking her head and muttering, "Oh, of course. Right this way."

Draco soon found himself sitting at a low, wooden table in a rickety chair he was sure would collapse any moment as she poured a ladle full of the soup she had been cooking earlier into a cracked bowl. He had never been so repulsed in his life. How did people live like this?

The girl seated herself across from him with her own serving and nervously began to pick at her food, glancing up every few seconds as if to make sure the food was to his liking. Draco almost slapped a palm to his forehead but instead mechanically forced a spoonful into his mouth.

It was disgusting, of course, but he plastered a smile on his face and asked, "So you live here alone with your mother?"

The girl jumped at the questions but quickly replied, "Y-yes. Ever since my father…" She died off and wrung her hands in anxiety before continuing, "Ever since my father was gone."

"It must have been difficult to manage on your own like this."

"It is," she said with a little more conviction. "My Mum…she really liked my father. I did too but I don't remember much, see? Just snippets and flashes."

Draco swirled his spoon in the soup. "Like?"

"Like sometimes I would look at something. Something like a particular place and I would remember but only then do I see." Her eyes took on a far-off look. "There was this one time the town had a small fair and I was just walking by the juggler at the corner when I suddenly remembered my father standing with me in the exact same spot and laughing. I was happy. My whole family was happy until they came and took him away -"

The girl cut off abruptly, stricken at her slip. Draco had to struggle to keep the self-satisfied smirk off his face and asked with a note of concern, "Somebody took your father away?"

"I-I'm not…no, I…Mum doesn't like me talking about it –"

"It's alright." Draco smiled disarmingly and leaned closer towards her and lowered his eyelids just enough to reveal the veil of his eyelashes. His voice lowered to a quiet murmur and he breathed, "It's alright. I will not speak of this. I see your mother so sick and you struggling so and my heart aches for your family. I just wish to know what happened to your father to see if I can do anything about it. Maybe I could help you there."

It worked like a charm. Immediately, the girl's posture slackened and she finally met his eyes in a blatant and naïve display of trust. To be honest, Draco would have been surprised if she had resisted. He had grown up playing this game with others far more cultured and devious than a simple witch living in a tiny hut with barely any magic to her name.

The girl took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well…the only real memory of my father that I can remember clearly is of the night he was taken away. It was just another night like any other. Mum was knitting in front of the fire and my father was resting. Then, suddenly, somebody knocked on the door and my father began to panic. He told us to hide in the cellar – we have a cellar by the way – and we hid. The only thing I could hear were voices demanding for – for –"

"Go on," Draco whispered and placed a comforting hand over hers in reassurance.

" – for his wand." She looked up fearfully at Draco as if she were expecting him to suddenly turn on her and drag her away like her father had been but when he only smiled at her, she relaxed again and continued. "My father refused many times and finally, there was shouting and spells, I think. Then it went silent. My Mum waited a good hour down in the cellar before finally climbing out of the cellar with me and by then my father had been taken. My Mum fancies that he just disappeared and will return but I know better. I know they took my Da away from me."

Draco feigned sadness and bit his lip while tightening his grip around the girl's hand. He honestly could have cared less about this girl's sob story. He had heard and seen far worse from other wizards who had resisted the loss of their wands. He had no doubt that the girl's father was one of them and was most likely dead by now. His Master had little patience for such rebels and most were killed on the spot. But he was doing all of this to gain her trust before launching into questions about Harry. Just a few more minutes on this nonsense and he could actually get to the real purpose of his being here.

"I am so sorry," he said consolingly. "I cannot say I have suffered as badly as you have and I wish, with all my heart, that I could do something for you, but…I fear that your father was a wizard who resisted the Dark Lord's decree and was taken for it."

The girl's eyes widened. "The Dark Lord?"

Draco nodded. "There was decree that all those who weren't proclaimed his followers had to give up their wands for the safety of the domain. Those who didn't comply were punished."

"That – that's horrible!" she gasped.

"It's not. The Dark Lord only asked so in order to make sure that no wizard or witch went wayward and alerted the Muggles any more than necessary. Surely you understand how catastrophic it would be if something such as magic were revealed to those non-magical beasts? They fear people like you and me. And they tend to destroy the things they fear."

The girl's eyes were wide but she seemed to soak in his words. She wasn't rebuffing him or shrinking away so Draco took it as a good sign.

"Me?" she asked. "I – I have magic?"

Good Lord was she really that dull? Surely she would have had at least _one_ bout of accidental magic by now. Even the weakest of witches and wizards produced some sort of magical occurrence by the time they reached eight years old.

"I sensed your magic from the moment I met you," Draco murmured. "People like you and me are special. We can do things Muggles cannot. Can you not see how we are far more cultured, far more structured than those creatures who would persecute us merely for the abilities we were born with?"

The girl hesitated but tremblingly nodded in tentative agreement. "I suppose."

Draco nodded. "You see, I lost a friend of mine a few months ago. He just disappeared one day after watching a wizard be killed by a Muggle."

"That's horrible!" she burst out. "A Muggle really did that?"

Draco sneered to himself. Of course not. Harry would never let a Muggle touch him, let alone kill him. And any wizard could easily best a Muggle. They were inferior and it was ridiculous to even think something like that happening but it seemed to garner the girl's sympathy.

He bit his lip in mock emotion and gasped out, "I – I couldn't stand those countless days without my friend. We'd known each other for years and just suddenly he was gone…I think that killing really affected him and I'm searching for him now."

The girl's eyes flared at the excitement of being a part of another's secret and she eagerly leaned into him, putting her other hand over his and asked, "Can I help you? I would do everything I could! I owe you at least that much!"

Ah. The beauty of deception. It really was fun controlling people like this. "I came to this town because I think he might have passed by. He's about my height…maybe a little shorter with black hair and green eyes. He's also a wizard like me."

Recognition immediately flared in the girl's eyes and she smiled. "I know exactly who you're talking about!"

Maybe Draco's luck wasn't so bad after all. This was his first town and already he was running across Harry's tracks.

"Did you see him?"

"I did," she grinned. "I was visiting the nearby town, the next one over about ten miles from here, and the situation there had been terrible. The head of the town was taking too much and offering too little, see? And the townspeople weren't very happy about it but they couldn't do anything about it. They were beginning to starve over there despite the good season this year. Things were beginning to look bad." An excited air began to surround her. The more she spoke the more she seemed to gain confidence. "But just when things were going to go right down the hole…this one boy shows up out of nowhere."

Draco smiled in anticipation. "That sounds like him."

"He told the townspeople he could do it, fix the situation. I didn't think they would believe him and they didn't at first. But he spoke barely a few words more and they were all listening to him like he was the next Merlin reborn. And sure enough, he had the head of the town fixed up and all by the end of the day and things were looking up. Nobody ever learned who the kid was but I'm pretty sure everybody saw that boy's eyes despite his poor cloak. Most brilliant green I've ever seen."

That most definitely sounded like Harry. He could convince a basilisk it was a flobberworm if he wanted to and he had a way of making people do things the way he wanted them to do it with nothing more than some words.

He could still remember the very first meeting Harry had openly attended at the Dark Lord's side and even he had to admit that the night's performance had astonished him.

He had really been the Dark Lord's protégé.

~0~

_Draco watched as the double doors opened with a magnificent flourish and saw the Dark Lord stride as he customarily did. He arrived with all the aura of power encasing him and he was as imposing as ever in dark emerald robes embroidered with enchanted platinum thread to shift in design and pattern with every rustle of the fabric. His pale face was immaculate and his eyes as piercingly crimson as ever but there was a collective stiffening of surprise at the figure that followed closely behind. _

_If Draco hadn't known better, he would have thought the Harry the Dark Lord's son of some sort. His hair was just as dark and his skin just as pale. His face was elegant and high cheekbones accented their appearance. There was only the difference in eye color and one seemed far less severe than the other but there was a certain fierceness and assurance in their countenance that seemed to dub them far closer than mere guardian and ward. Of course, Draco's father was one of the highest in the Inner Circle and Draco had known of Harry's position with the Master for years so he was apt to notice things that others wouldn't for some time. _

_The sudden lull in conversation served as the perfect silence for the Dark Lord's subsequent announcement. He came to a stop just at the outskirts of the throng and beckoned for Harry to come forward before placing a hand on his ward's shoulder in a strange, silent declaration of possession. _

"_This is Harry. He is my charge and has come with me tonight to taste events such as these for himself."_

_Harry looked at all of them with a cool air of quiet confidence and clearly said, "Thank you, my Lord. I must thank all of you as well for allowing me this experience." _

_There was a moment of almost awkward silence following this but the air of conversation and quickly came back to life as Harry was automatically swarmed by a crowd of surprised followers hungry for more information from a seemingly weak link. _

_Draco couldn't help but keep an eye on Harry the entire night. He watched in jealousy as the Dark Lord's protégé easily spoke to the Death Eaters and Inner Circle as if he were taking a simple afternoon stroll. He handled each situation with poise and finesse and although Draco was standing too far to hear any conversation, he knew that nobody managed to get anything more out of the other boy's lips. More often than not, he caught people appearing almost flustered and confused after exchanging a few words with the Dark Lord's charge. It amused him to a certain degree that they left with more questions than they had upon the outset. _

_So the night progressed in relative peacefulness (or as peaceful as a Death Eater event could go). But Draco knew that something would happen. Nothing so large as the introduction of the Dark Lord's personal charge could pass along so easily. Somebody would test him. Somebody would do something large enough in an attempt to reveal Harry for what he really was. The majority thought the seemingly inexperienced Harry would fail and they would take glee in finally discovering the Dark Lord's one mistake. But Draco knew it would go otherwise and he was determined to be as far away from Harry's retaliation as possible. _

_Sure enough, Draco heard a particularly loud Death Eater of the upper middle ranks speak in clear disdain. "Surely you are not Harry __Potter__, now are you?"_

_The Dark Lord had not introduced Harry with his last name on purpose. He knew the mass here would not take the mention of a Light name well and now that one Death Eater had somehow come across that juicy information, the confrontation that Draco knew would happen was happening. _

"_I am," Harry said simply. _

_The Death Eater sneered. "That's a Light name. What's a Light wizard doing as our Lord's ward?"_

_Harry's brilliant emerald eyes bore into his accuser's face and his voice took on a cold edge. "Who ever said anything about my being a Light wizard?"_

"_All Potters are Light. Everybody knows that. What right do you have to hide under our Master's protection and leech off his magnificence like the parasite you are?"_

_Harry's lips thinned. "I daresay I an far less of a parasite than you. At least I am useful in some form. You, on the other hand, spend the majority of your time trying to gain influence through petty squabbles rather than actually contributing to my Lord's cause."_

_The Death Eater turned a shade darker. "How dare you say that? You, who knows absolutely nothing about the true arena we must deal with daily."_

"_I think our definitions of 'the arena' are vastly different considering you spend the majority of your ventures on the comfortable seat of your leather chair back at your home which, I must mention, must be rather large in order to accommodate your girth."_

"_Why you insolent brat –"_

"_Bentse, if you think nobody is aware of your active inadequacy, then you are far more misguided than I initially thought." Harry smirked. "It's astonishing, really, how you even managed to make this far and remain somewhat intact. If the sheer amount of people who you annoy on a daily basis aren't after you yet, then I'm sure that those whom you have swindled into obscurity are already planning your downfall."_

_The Death Eater (was his name Bentse?) only got so far as opening his mouth and twitching his wand in some preemptive attack before he was screaming on the floor and writhing in agony. Anybody who hadn't been already watching the scene unfold was certainly watching now and all movement in the room had ceased. _

_Harry hadn't even moved or said a word. The only indication that he was the one performing the spell was his fierce gaze upon the wailing man. His emerald eyes seemed to blaze with deadly fire and he shivered from the intensity of it. _

_A smile slowly found its way on to Harry's face and he slowly paced around Bentse, his hand held loosely behind his back and never lifting his eyes from the man's form. It appeared something like a fierce predator encircling his prey and playing with it before the final devouring. _

"_Such weakness," Harry mused in an almost amused tone. "But I suppose I couldn't have expected much from such a pathetic excuse for a wizard. You are truly not worth my Lord's time or presence. Groveling will only get you so far." He abruptly approached Bentse's screaming form and shoved a shoe onto the man's chest, standing over him. He allowed the spell to cease and the man was left whimpering on the floor with Harry's weight on him. _

_Harry bent down and grinned, "But I would rather like to see you grovel, Bentse. It would amuse me so if you would beg. Lick my shoes and beg."_

_Amazingly, the Death Eater's eyes flashed with some rebellion and he spat, "Make me you son of a bitch." _

_The next moment Bentse was screaming again as the skin on the right side of the man's face began to slowly peel itself away. The gruesome sinew and muscle could be seen beneath and the red dye of blood began to paint the floor beneath a crimson that matched the Dark Lord's eyes. _

"_All you need to do is beg," Harry purred. "Beg like the mongrel you are." _

_The man resisted for a few moments more but even Draco was beginning to feel a little sick as the right half of the man's face was beginning to look nothing more than a bloody mass with the eye rolling in its socket. By the time the right side was finished, Bentse seemed to relax marginally in relief before the left side began to peel from the forehead down. _

_He broke then. Bentse whimpered from his mutilated mouth and Harry took that hint to step off the man's chest. A pleased smile graced Harry's face as the man began to kiss bloody lips to his shoes and when the torture still didn't cease, Bentse began to lick and beg in some contorted words that were unintelligible from a half-destroyed mouth. _

"_See how easy that was?" Harry sweetly asked as the man licked. "So simple. I hope you've learned your lesson this time, pet. I would hate to have my shoes stained again like this. But this is good. This is good." _

_The skin abruptly stopped peeling and there was a frozen moment of pure relief in Bentse's body before he collapsed, unconscious before Harry. _

_So Harry would allow the Death Eater to live. It seemed to be an almost anticlimactic ending to such a show, a failure to complete the job. But Draco saw this ploy for what it was. It was far crueler to leave the man alive now that his face was permanently destroyed beyond repair. There were potions, of course, to ease the pain and maybe even heal it to a degree but even if he did regrow the skin, the man's face would forever be in a state of uncontrollable spasms because the nerves would never perfectly reattach again. By leaving Bentse alive, Harry was leaving a living testimony of his power, his influence. This way, nobody would ever forget that Harry Potter was not somebody to be trifled with and somebody that deserved to be by the Dark Lord's side. _

_Despite being a middle class Death Eater, Bentse had had some merit to his name and was by no means completely weak. Many of the followers would have been hard pressed to defeat the man because of his spell repertoire. This just proved that Harry had the power to completely crush one of high rank without so much as a blink of an eye._

_The hall had fallen deathly silent and only when the Dark Lord finally extracted himself from the side did the mass take a breath. _

"_I think I shall retire for the night," the Lord said. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder again and a hint of an actual smile tilted the man's lips. "And my charge will as well."_

_Hastily murmured farewells and bows of respect were exchanged before the pair headed towards the entrance doors again. Draco stood, waiting towards the exit and watched as the Dark Lord passed by without so much as a glance. He hadn't expected anything from his Master but when Harry came into Draco's vicinity, he caught the protégé's eyes and saw the slight repulsion and discomfort at destroying another human being's life flicker in emerald orbs for the briefest second. It was no more than a second, but it was enough and some of the tension that only a select few could see in Harry's shoulders lessened, knowing that somebody understood. _

_The Dark Lord would only be pleased with the performance tonight. But Draco had provided the one moment of weakness Harry had needed._

_~0~_

"_**I'm very proud of you, my Horcrux,"**__ Tom whispered into Harry's ear as he slowly helped pull off the formal robes that Harry had worn to the night's event. __**"I don't think I could have done much better myself. And keeping the man alive? I was displeased with your decision at first. But in hindsight, I see the brilliance of it."**_

_Harry didn't say a word. He only stood quietly as his guardian peeled off his outer layers as he had once done when Harry was younger and a little more helpless in such a complicated array of cloth. _

"_**Ah…you cannot be feeling **__**remorse**__** for what you have done, could you?"**_

"_**Of course not," **__Harry replied smoothly, only a hint of amusement in his voice. __**"Bentse had it coming. All of those other events I have watched the oaf blunder about as if it is his right and I was rather pleased that he, of all people, dared to confront me. It was a pleasure to destroy him."**_

_Tom laughed pulled the rest of Harry's outer layers off. His charge now only wore a simple dress shirt and vest with pants and dress shoes. He made no motion to help Harry with those so Harry promptly began to loosen his vest on his own. _

"_**I would like to keep Bentse as my pet," **__Harry said. __**"I shall keep him alive a little bit longer but when his usefulness runs its course, I shall send somebody to dispose of him."**_

_Tom smiled and he reached down to pick up the outer robes that had been so carelessly discarded on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak again but stopped as a curious expression overcame his features. _

_Harry tensed as he realized exactly what had caught his guardian's attention and he watched apprehensively as Tom pulled out the parcel he had been fingering earlier that evening. _

"_**What is this?"**__ Tom hissed with a slight edge to his tone._

_Harry felt a flutter of panic in his chest but he remained composed and replied, __**"It's a gift."**_

"_**For whom?"**_

_Harry couldn't help but bite his lips. __**"It's…It's for you, Tom."**_

_The Dark Lord seemed to freeze on the spot. All indication that the man was a living, breathing being seemed to disappear as Harry agonized over his decision. Tonight really hadn't been the right night to give it. He had finally completely pleased Tom and now he only brought back dark memories and his dark mood. _

_Harry was prepared for the harsh retaliation but was surprised when none came. _

"_What is it?" Tom asked, dropping the Parseltongue._

_Warmth blossomed where panic once occupied and Harry allowed a gentle smile escape. "Open it and see."_

_Tom almost seemed to hesitate before gripping the green ribbon adorning the small, black box and untying it. His pale fingers skimmed over the lid before lifting it and resting his eyes upon his present._

_He slowly pulled out a bangle crafted entirely out of platinum and formed to perfectly fit hi arm. Small runes were inscribed on the exterior and, if he were to look on the inner side, other symbols of power marked it. _

_To avoid the silence that Harry knew would follow, he blurted, "I made it myself. I know it is probably nowhere near as perfect as you could have made it or as intricate but in my defense, I have only been studying this sort of thing for four years. It's enchanted to –"_

" – _protect the wearer from a variety of deadly spells and serve as a connection to a twin bangle," Tom finished._

_Harry was almost disappointed that his guardian had recognized its function before he could explain but he nodded and strode over to a drawer to pull out an identical bangle._

"_I won't mind if you don't wear it. I just thought that maybe…" Harry couldn't finish the thought. He just didn't want to say anything related to Tom's birthday or Christmas for fear that it would ruin the man's odd acceptance._

_Finally, the Dark Lord murmured, "I shall wear it. There is nothing wrong with the smallest bit of extra caution." A sly smile quirked his lips. "Even if it is mediocre." _

_Harry couldn't stop the full-out happiness from pervading his face. Tom had accepted his gift and that in itself had been worth the entire evening and more._

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><p><strong>Alright, alright. I know it's been forever. And I have been saying that a lot lately. I suppose you're going to have to attribute it to my sudden reawakening love for Avatar (no, not the blue people, the actual legit one). I was hit with an idea for another story so I started another and got a bit sidetracked...<strong>_  
><em>

**But please don't think that I am, in any way, ever going to drop this. I honestly have too many ideas for this one too and honestly, I just love Harry and Voldie. I know I haven't mentioned Voldie much so that's why this chapter is so saturated with memories of him :) I am planning on involving him a lot more later on but there's much to be done and said about what's going on in Hogwarts with Harry. It's going to be a while before any long action will happen between the two in anything outside of memories. **

**And Voldie might be a little OOC in the last scene...I don't know if he would actually accept it. But this is my AU so mwahaha I'm gonna make him take it :) But of course I'm never going to have him spout some sentimental crap. It just wouldn't work with somebody like Voldemort. He is a freaking psychopath. Or pretty damn close to it. So the only reason why he might be so accepting towards Harry is because psychopaths only care for themselves. And Harry, carrying a piece of Voldie's soul, counts. So, technically, Voldie is only being the tiniest bit of sentimental towards himself. Which is completely psychopathic. **

**This chapter was also more of a interlude type of thing and introducing Draco's little dilemma of hunting down Harry. Poor Draco. Next few chapters will primarily feature Harry and his antics at Hogwarts. They will turn a little bit (okay, a lot) more morbid in the oncoming chapters. Initially, I painted Harry as the reluctant to cause pain type of guy (although he was more than capable of causing pain). But he did grow up around Voldie so it's kind of expected that he would have a sort of taste for torture and the whole shebang. Notice that he doesn't completely revel in it like some sadistic creep but he can and does enjoy to a degree but also manages to feel remorse afterwards. **

**This aspect of Harry will play a key role in the oncoming chapters. So if he becomes a little...unhinged and less of the gray type of character then that is why. **

**I mentioned in my previous chapter that Harry's soul was completely dedicated to the Dark. Yes, in the first chapter I said he was of neither loyalty...and that STILL stands. His soul, his magic might be Dark but that is completely different from his LOYALTIES. The Light barrier actually only measures loyalties and since Harry is kind of iffy on that, he has yet to be burned to a crisp :)**

**PS No editing this time either so sorry about mistakes Xl**

**PPS I suck at those torture scenes guys. Really, I do. So if it just sounded lame then I'm really really really sorry and I'm still working on them :(**

**PPPS I also have no idea about medical jargon and theory and whatnot. So if I messed up somewhere in Draco's diagnosis then I'm sorry about that too. I just kind of made it up as I went. **


	11. I Think It's a Brilliant Idea!

**OMFG. I forgot to thank all my reviewers the last chapter! I'm such an IDIOT. I really do appreciate it when people comment and I just wanted you guys to know that :) Thank you!**

**I do not own Harry Potter or anything else that could get me sued.**

* * *

><p>Harry twirled a spoon idly through his morning soup with a curl of a smirk on his face. Any onlooker would have been wondering what he was smiling about. As far as anybody else could see, Harry had nothing to be happy about. He was alone <em>again<em> and the only person who even bothered to glance at him was Astoria. The rest had forgotten about him a long time ago and he was more an invisible entity who took up space.

But, of course, there were no onlookers.

Even the non-magical population he had managed to endear himself to avoided turning his way during meal times. For all of their supposed support, many still kept clear of even coming close to something Slytherin. The rest of the magical population treated them lowly enough. So during meal times, Harry was free of both magical and non-magical scrutiny (with the exception of Astoria once again).

Contrary to loneliness, Harry felt relaxed and peaceful during these periods. Not only was he less obligated to act his part, but he also had the opportunity to observe the overall climate of the student population. It was important to keep an eye on the effects of his actions from afar especially in the non-magical realm at this point in time.

He had been working on Timothy for nearly half a year now. Everything he did during his time amongst the non-magicals was to encourage confidence and self-assurance. His posture, his questions, his personality, his subtle hints to other classmates, and even the way he breathed (hitched, most of the time) was part of his effort to instill a character strong enough to spark a change in the system.

It was definitely working. By now, the rest of the non-magicals blatantly respected Timothy just because he was capable of taking charge of situations and was accustomed to it. Now they didn't just turn to him during emergencies. Now they came to him when they had smaller problems like a subject might to a ruler. All of this respect and responsibility heaped on to Timothy's shoulders had certainly changed the boy for the better, in Harry's opinion. He walked with a straighter pose, smiled more often, and his voice was no longer the scratchy uncertainty that almost all the other non-magicals utilized.

But it wasn't enough. Harry had seen it for a few weeks but he had hoped that things would pick up and he wouldn't have to intervene with the established process.

He had become complacent over the last few months. Perhaps this Light world where mistakes and lax attitudes were allowed had given him a nice opportunity for a new life and actual companions at the onset, but now Harry saw that unless he took action, nothing would be any different than it had been back in the Dark. Blaise had almost completely forgotten about him like the rest of the student body and Astoria, for all of her borderline obsessive observations, didn't view him any more as a friend than that prat Ronald Weasley did. Maybe Harry had been hoping that somebody would miraculously take it upon themselves to befriend the new Squib and he would be happy but that had only been the stupid wish of a hormonal teenager. To be honest, he had forfeited his chance at any sort of real friendship when he had decided to make himself a virtual ghost among the magicals and a pretty little puppy for the non-magicals.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so fascinated with the outcome of social upheaval within Hogwarts, he could have gone and made himself a new life. Even with his sad position as a Squib and Slytherin, he could have made something of himself.

But the chance had been too great to ignore. Really, the Light couldn't have been expecting to continue on as it did, did it? There was obviously going to be a schism between the magical and the non-magical even outside of Hogwarts with the way the hierarchy had been set up. The Light was certainly a near-paradise compared to the Dark for Squibs and their families but it was obvious that as generations continued, such sanctuary from the Dark would become expected and they would demand for more and more. Really, all Harry was doing was accelerating what would happen in the next few decades.

Why couldn't he just keep a damper on his curiosity? If he hadn't felt tempted, obligated, to take on this challenge, he wouldn't be stuck in his own elaborate plans. Entertainment and curiosity aside, Harry almost had no idea why he was doing this in the first place. This schism might help Tom in the long run and maybe it was a kind helpful push for the non-magicals, but he honestly hadn't planned on helping his guardian anymore than he had planned on helping the poor souls devoid of magic. Quite frankly, Harry found it a lot funnier to hinder Tom's plans because it irritated him so and he wasn't exactly a saint made to help the underprivileged.

But Harry had grown far more lenient on himself, allowing more mistakes and slower reactions to scenarios that he should have addressed faster. A part of him blamed it on the Light atmosphere but he knew that most of it probably had to do with the fact that he was finally away from Tom and his high expectations. Like a mere child finally allowed to play on his own, Harry was acting lazy and nowhere near as polished as he was used to.

So Harry had taken action. He couldn't wait any longer.

Timothy needed some competition.

The choice of competitor was obvious. He had almost subconsciously labeled Leila for the position from the start. She was Timothy's partner, his counterpart. When he was rash, she was level headed and calm. When he had doubts, she was the one to eliminate them. When he struggled with classes or new expectations, she was there to support him all the way. Harry could see that Timothy depended on her and favored her like no other. Most of it came from their long, close friendship and, of course, Timothy's sad one-sided love.

Leila was the perfect choice because of her place in Timothy's life. He would never expect her to suddenly become a competitor for the limelight. To him, she just wasn't the type to do so. He thought her sweet, polite, and innocent on all levels.

But Harry knew better. He would have been impressed by how stifled her hunger for power was had it been an actual conscious effort on her part. She might have been as pretty as a flower on the outside and just as bright, but she was about as filthy and greedy on inside as a human could possibly get. And the hilarious part about it all was that she didn't even know it.

She must have done something unspeakably horrible or gone through something impossibly traumatic in the past for such a vicious part of her personality to be hidden away like it was. Most like her had a tendency to either fall into silent resentment for the world or turn right into an open monster intent upon satiating her desire for control. Only something big could have gotten her to turn into the perky Ravenclaw she was today. The façade was like her shield against her hunger and blockade against inevitable insanity. Harry knew it would eventually lead to that had she succumbed to her need for power. He had seen such a result almost every day of his life through Tom.

Harry knew the possible negatives of bringing Leila into the scheme of things. If left as she was, she would most likely end up Timothy's most loyal supporter and an asset with her intelligence. But he couldn't wait anymore. Every day Harry spent here meant every day Tom had to find him. And while he doubted that his guardian could yet bring down the Light barrier, he knew that the Dark's ruler would begin to pour far more resources into such a task if he knew for sure that his Horcrux was within. Harry wasn't being arrogant. It was just a fact. He was a piece of the Dark Lord and any threat to him meant a threat to Tom.

So Harry had taken it upon himself to create another, far more potent dreaming charm within the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets.

Now, he was smirking in the dead freezing morning because his efforts had certainly produced the results he had been looking for.

"What is _wrong _with you?" Timothy shouted, his voice loud and almost fearful even from across the entire Great Hall. "How could you say that?"

Leila was standing above her sitting friend at the Gryffindor table, her hands on her hips. "I'm just stating fact," she said coldly but just as loudly. "Maybe if you could just –"

"Don't be stupid! You're insane for even thinking it!"

"Don't act like you _haven't_ been thinking it!" she retorted. "I know you have! You had to have been! You don't just go around this year suddenly all Mr. I'm the Best and not even consider it!"

Harry was disappointed when McGonagall intervened and split the two up with a stern glare and a few reprimanding words he couldn't hear. He hadn't heard the beginning of the argument, but judging from what he had heard, everything was falling into place.

Only next time, he had to make sure that their confrontation happened somewhere nobody could interrupt.

~0~

Leila knew she wasn't acting herself. She had sensed it from the very moment she had first woken up from the dream. It had only begun two days ago and already she could feel herself unraveling and she didn't know _why_.

She just couldn't get it out of her mind. She couldn't help but fall back on those images. For weeks she had begun to see Timothy as hope, as a chance for people like her to finally find a high place in magical society. But her dreams had changed all that.

It was the same one every time. The parameters were fuzzy, the scenario unclear, but she knew that every single time _she_ came out on top – not her best friend. She was the one people looked to for answers. She was the one people revered, _worshipped_, because she had done the unthinkable. She had done what nobody could.

Exactly what she had done, she couldn't yet remember once she woke up and it frustrated her to no end. She wanted to see it, to taste what she had accomplished. She was a Ravenclaw. People like her loved to see the fruit of their labors and revel in it.

The more she thought about it, the more she had seen why she would make a leader just as good as Timothy. She was smart and her teachers adored her. She already garnered enough attention because of her high grades and sweet disposition but Leila also knew that she was…_pretty_.

Oh, she wasn't stunning by any measure. She had neither the aristocratic lilt to her face nor the elegant bone structure that so many purebloods were born with but she was beautiful in her own right. Among a sea of apparently mediocre non-magicals, she shone like a jewel.

But she had never taken advantage of that. That would have been cruel and she wasn't cruel. She was nice and she cared about other people. She helped other people and smiled to keep everybody else just as happy as she. Leila was a kind person. So many people had told her so. And she knew she was. She felt sick when she saw others injured and angry when others were unjustly treated.

So why was she now having these thoughts? Why was she suddenly condemning her best friend because she thought she could do better? Timothy was trying his best! She knew that. He honestly wanted to help the people he did and he was often successful.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Leila couldn't help but notice the small things, the little things that he could have done to do better. He could have sent somebody else to get the nurse or maybe he could have used the information he had on certain people to fix a problem rather than stick to his stubborn Gryffindor morals and revert to blatant approach. At times, she felt…sidelined. Like she didn't really matter when he was in his "leadership mode". Timothy hadn't always been this way. He hadn't always been able to stand up for himself and take command.

"Leila? Leila!"

Leila jumped out of her thoughts and looked around her English class in brief confusion before she realized that the teacher had been speaking to her for the last few moments. She flushed in embarrassment and said, "I'm sorry, professor. Could you please repeat the question?"

The teacher pursed his lips and replied, "Please remember to pay better attention in the future, Leila. I will allow this to pass this once because you are normally very attentive." He then turned away and glanced over at the opposite end of the room where Timothy sat. For the first time in five years, Leila wasn't by his side.

She waited for the teacher to ask her friend the question but she noticed how his gaze flitted over Timothy's form and came to settle upon another in the adjacent seat.

"Mr. Evans. Perhaps you can answer this?"

"There is a certain duality to the character," Harry promptly responded. "Although that would almost be redundant because humanity is rarely ever less than that. Nobody really only has one face, one personality they have to present."

A flash of approval entered the teacher's eyes and he smiled. "Very good. You are improving."

Leila scowled at the compliment. Of course Harry was doing better. _She_ was tutoring him after all. With her help, he was no longer the pathetic runt of the class. No, now Harry was the one person nobody could really hate. He was always smiling, always supportive. He was painfully quiet and slow at times but even she had to admit that he was endearing. His quiet need for her help always gave her a warm feeling in her chest: pride. She was actually indispensible to the Slytherin squib and he always said so.

Leila frowned and furrowed her brow as she watched Timothy grin and give Harry a congratulatory punch on the shoulder. What was her best friend doing appearing so cheerful like that? Irritation flared at the realization that Timothy wasn't exactly bothered by the fact she was gone. She was actually avoiding him, furious with him. Yet there he was, smiling, because he no longer had only one friend to depend upon.

Now he also had Harry.

It was Harry. Ever since he had arrived out of nowhere, Timothy had begun to grow out of his delicate persona. Before Harry had come, Leila always had Timothy glancing at her, looking to her for answers and help. She had liked that. She had liked helping him and the rewards that came with it. It made her feel filthy to admit, but Leila had liked the way Timothy used to be more than she did his new personality. Of course, now Harry needed her but he always looked to Timothy first. Always Timothy. And Timothy now didn't completely depend on her because he drew his courage and strength from Harry.

Suddenly, the entire class began to stand up and Leila realized that she had forgotten to pay attention again. She hastily packed away her belongings and stepped out of the class, not even bothering to jot down the homework. Once she entered the hallway, she deftly avoided the crowd she had grown so accustomed to over the last five years and brooded.

Only when she was standing in front of the Black Lake did she finally realize that her feet had unconsciously taken her to the location she always ate lunch with Timothy. She flushed at her lack of attention but let out a quick breath of relief that he had yet to show up. She was still angry with Timothy for brushing off her suggestion this morning and she had no intention of coming anywhere near his vicinity until he properly apologized.

Really, had her idea been that bad? She thought it had been brilliant. She had been thinking about her dream again, furiously wondering what exactly she had done in it. She couldn't help but daydream about the things she could have done, the impossible obstacles she had overcome. She had initially thought it an amazing academic feat. Then she had believed it to be a great deed on her part, probably saving another's life or something similar. But none of those things were impossible. Many had done the same before her and she clearly recalled that she had done the _unthinkable_ in her dreams.

Then, as she had been eating breakfast, the idea struck her and she had to share it with Timothy, give him the amazing advice.

But he had rejected it, loudly, in front of the entire school and left her humiliated.

"Hey – um – Leila?"

The Ravenclaw girl spun quickly on the spot, prepared to snap at whoever had decided to bother her only to freeze upon seeing Timothy's face.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head while, to her great irritation, Harry lingered behind him with a tentative smile. "I guess…I mean…it's great that it's lunchtime, isn't it?"

Leila sometimes wondered whether Timothy would ever learn how to properly begin a conversation when he was flustered. He had obviously thought he wouldn't see her here today after she had avoided him during classes.

"I suppose," she replied frostily.

When she offered no other words, Timothy sighed and plowed on like the Gryffindor he was. "Look, I'm really sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to say it so loudly but you really shocked me, Leila."

She raised one eyebrow. "So you're here to apologize?"

"Harry did let me know how rude it was of me," he laughed uneasily.

Leila pursed her lips into a thin line. So it had been Harry's idea to apologize. Since when did the shy new guy give advice?

"It was rude of you. Especially since I meant what I said."

Timothy's laughed nervously. "Leila, it was sort of funny the first time but now it's a little…" He paled when her stony expression didn't falter at all and hesitantly asked, "Wait…you can't be serious."

"You know me better than that. Of course I'm serious!"

"But…"

"But what?" Leila hissed. "You won't even consider it?"

Timothy sighed heavily. "Alright. I _have_ been thinking along those lines for a while now. I mean, it's naturally one of the first things that came to mind."

"Then why won't you actually do it? Why don't you start now?"

"You…you don't get it." Timothy crossed his arms. "I can't just…just…"

"Take the plunge? Actually do something of use?" Leila snarled. "Are you afraid?"

"Of course I am!" He threw his hands up in the air. "They have magic! We don't! How in Merlin's name could we ever hope to compete with them?"

She could hear the rationale behind her friend's words. It made sense. But there was still a part of her that only saw a coward before her, one too afraid to take on the unthinkable.

Leila shivered. _The unthinkable_. This was what she had been dreaming about it, she was sure now. The idea she had reached this morning was what she had managed to accomplish in her dreams. But perhaps, just perhaps, it didn't have to remain so ethereal…

Leila shook away the idea. Surely not. That was just silly of her to even think of doing such a thing. Standing up to the wizards and witches? That would certainly be difficult to take on. It still stung that Timothy clearly thought they couldn't do it at all but she could now see why he had been so skeptical.

Still, there was that part of her just wondering…

"You're probably right," Leila sighed in defeat. "It is a silly idea."

Timothy smiled and pulled her into a hug. "Come one, Leila. You're definitely the brightest person in the entire school. You've got so much going to for you."

Leila smiled back but it was small and thin. Maybe for now it was a silly idea, but it wouldn't be for long. She would find a way to accomplish it. She would find a way to make the fighting ground even between them and the magical students.

And if it meant doing her planning without Timothy, then so be it.

~0~

Harry caught up to Leila just as dinner came to end that day. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout the day. After the morning's conflict, he knew that she was beginning to crack. Maybe she had reconciled with Timothy during lunch and seemed, to the entire world, back to herself, but Harry could spot the defiant glint in her eyes that signaled her determination.

Harry still hadn't yet heard exactly what she had suggested during breakfast. When he had asked Timothy, all he had gotten was a quick "maybe later". The uneasy expression on the Gryffindor's face had pleased Harry. Not only was Timothy reluctant to share the idea with Harry because it had involved Leila, but also because Timothy had been guilty of the same thoughts. Of course, he had shoved it to the back of his mind but now that his best friend had brought it up again, the idea that plagued his dreams was resurrected and brought to the forefront of the mind again.

Exactly the way Harry wanted it.

And Harry was fairly sure of what the idea was. Leila and Timothy had made a point of never actually articulating it, but how could Harry not know what it was when he had been the one to plant it in their minds in the first place?

"Leila!" he called out when her brown locks came into view.

She hesitated in her step and turned around towards the source of his voice before she finally spotted him. "Oh, hello Harry."

That was strange. He could hear the slight coldness in her voice that he hadn't heard before. Normally, she greeted him warmly and with an offer of another tutoring session. Now, there was something blocking it, something that made her abstain from offering help and smiling genuinely. She had realized something today that apparently didn't place Harry in a favorable light.

"Do you have a minute?"

She pursed her lips and Harry could almost hear the rejection already.

"It will be quick," he added. "Just a few minutes."

She didn't have any excuse to say now, Harry knew. Nobody had classes after dinner and after so many weeks leeching off her knowledge, he knew her schedule like the back of his hand.

"Alright," she relented.

They detached themselves from the crowd and slowly walked side by side in a corridor devoid of other students, free to speak their minds (if they ignored the staring portraits).

"I just wanted to know what exactly you spoke to Timothy about this morning," he began. "It's not that I'm going to defend him or anything like that, but I just wanted to know so that maybe I could help." He added a tentative smile for good measure.

Leila relaxed a bit at his façade of uncertainty. "Timothy hasn't told you yet?"

"No. He just avoids me whenever I bring it up."

She nodded in understanding and shifted her books in her arms before replying. "Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to know. Just…promise me that you won't laugh it off like Timothy did."

"Of course not," Harry grinned.

Leila took a deep breath as if she was about to take a large plunge. Then she blurted it out in a rush of words. "I suggested that maybe we should start facing the magicals." As if that didn't seem like explanation enough, she hastily continued. "Well, I don't mean like fight them or anything. They would win, obviously. But I mean just try to get some better treatment, you know? I'm not asking for much. Just…just something better. Aren't you sick of sitting at the end of the table, furthest away from the Head Table like some animals unworthy? Aren't you sick of the magicals waving their wands like they're so much better?"

Harry smiled widely and this time, it wasn't a forced one. "I understand you completely. And I think you have the right idea."

Her eyes widened at that and she stopped in her tracks to stare at him in wonder. "You really think so? You don't think it's stupid?"

"I think it's brilliant," he assured.

Leila bit her lips. "Timothy thinks it's stupid."

"Maybe he has a few good points," Harry relented. Then he slyly added, "But since when did you ever let that stop you? You're so smart I bet you've thought it out carefully."

"Yes…yes, I have thought about it." A new gleam had entered her eyes, a new sort of confident conviction in her ideas now. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry. That really helped me."

"Just don't go off and start doing anything risky though," he said with fake concern. "I wouldn't want you doing anything without Timothy first."

If her smile had been capable of appearing any wider, Harry was sure it would have split in two. "Don't worry. Don't you worry about a thing, Harry."

~0~

"Are you sure you must leave now?" Sara Fawcett, as Draco had learned the girl was named, asked.

Draco plastered on an expression of regret as he stood outside her door, ready to leave. "I wish I didn't have to, but I need to find my friend. He's important to me." _Important because without him, I'm pretty much a dead man walking. _

Sara's mouth frowned in disappointment but she managed to say, "Thank you, by the way. Thank you for helping my mother and…talking with me." She flushed a little towards the end of her sentence.

Trust a filthy, weak witch to feel enamored just because he had touched her hand and offered her his condolences. It was obvious she didn't have very many people to speak to - pathetically obvious. But Draco only smiled gently and lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. "Can I trust you?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "I would carry anything you want me to keep a secret to my grave!"

Draco smirked at her eager participation. "Then I need you to do me a great favor, one that could place your life in danger."

Sara's eyes widened but she continued to listen closely. Good, so she was either brave or silly enough to really do whatever Draco asked of her.

"I need you to continue asking around for my friend. Ask people you trust – and I mean _truly_ trust – to look for him too and bring the information back to you. Ask them to ask their friends and so on and so on." He reached down to the ground and searched for a brief moment before picking up a suitably sized stone. He pulled out his wand and whispered a few words under his breath and it glowed a bright red color before it settled back to its original shade. "Keep this with you at all times and don't let it out of your sight. Once you receive any information that could help me, hold this and say your name. I will receive the notice and contact you for the information."

Sara reverently took the stone into her hands and cradled it for a moment before her head snapped back up to listen as Draco continued.

"Please remember that this must be secret. I…" A little white lie couldn't hurt, could it? "…I am an unregistered wizard like your father was. If anybody heard about me, I would be taken too. Please remember this." Draco wrapped his hands around hers for emphasis and added for good measure, "Please, Sara?"

The use of her name made Sara flush a brilliant scarlet and she breathed, "Of course. I owe you that much."

A horrible thought occurred to Draco that moment. What if she used the stone just to contact him when she had trouble? That would be a problem. He couldn't have her bothering him because of her silly needs and worries. "And remember contacting you takes a lot of my power," he said. "So please do not contact me unless it is necessary."

She nodded once and she seemed a little downcast before she bit her lips. "Could you…could you tell me what your name is?"

The question threw Draco off for a moment. He had completely forgotten that she didn't know who he was quite yet. He had grown up so accustomed to people recognizing him on the spot he hadn't bothered to introduce himself.

But, of course, she couldn't know his real name. That would just cause problems if she did get caught with the enchanted stone.

"My name is Marcus. Marcus Flint." Hell, if she did get caught, she might as well get caught knowing the name of the one person Draco disliked almost as much as he did Harry. Maybe that way, Flint would be rid of once and for all.

Sara swallowed thickly. "Marcus…"

Draco had had enough of the girl's presence. She might have been slightly older than himself, but she was easier to play than a child. Boring, really, after a bit.

"Goodbye, Sara." And he placed a soft kiss on her hand before departing. It was good manners to depart on good terms, after all.

Even it meant he would have to wash his mouth afterwards.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey I actually got an update on time for once :D <strong>

**And yup, Leila's getting some showtime. I really hate her but I guess that's why she's so fun to write. To be honest, I had her planned to be Timothy's competitor from the beginning. **

**Sara Fawcett _is_ actually a character from the Harry Potter books. She was a Ravenclaw in Harry's year but I made her older in this fanfic because practically nobody knows her anyway so I can do as I like :P**

**It seems sort of risky for Draco to be setting up a network like this but he did put himself under another name and he is sort of naive about the actual world at this point. He's got battling in duels down pat but actually making his way in the real world with no hierarchy or word games to play? He's got a ways to go before he gets the kinks worked out. Plan to see him mess up quite a bit ;)**

**Leila is beginning to see Harry as a competitor too...did you get that? I don't know if I made it clear or not but she is beginning to see that Timothy is slowly replacing her with the new kid. Is it jealousy? Maybe. Okay, yes. It's the first little knot Harry _hasn't_ planned for!**

**And this, once again, isn't edited. Actually, now that I'm at it, I'm pretty much not going to edit anything because I'm too lazy...so unless I explicitly say I DID edit it, I guess you should assume any errors are a result of my lack of revision :(**

**For those of you who thought Sara would be Hermione, I thought the idea was actually pretty brilliant (I didn't even consider it!). But I already said that she was at Hogwarts. She was one of those lucky Muggleborns. She will become a larger player in the future but I had to have her at Hogwarts for it. For now, she's just the show-off witch that annoys Harry sometimes during class :P**


	12. Is That a Tattoo?

**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

**And thanks to all my reviewers again! It always makes my day :)**

* * *

><p>"You should ask him for help."<p>

"No," Leila interrupted from her place across the table. "Don't ask for help. He won't give you enough information. The best way to improve is to check out he library."

Timothy glanced irritably over at his friend and shook his head. "Why can't he ask for help? Maybe he can get extra instruction."

"But let's be honest." She turned to the Third Year who was staring at the two with wide eyes. "You can ask the professor for help but how much do you think he can tell you during the five minutes you're allowed? I know from experience that he will only give you that much time and no more. The best thing to do is go to library and ask the librarian for books on the subject."

The younger boy wordlessly began to nod but Timothy quickly cut him off. "No, Leila. I'm sure the professor would be willing to help. It is his _job_ after all."

Leila scowled. "Well have you ever actually gone and asked for help?"

Timothy flushed. "Maybe not but –"

"Exactly," Leila snorted. "I _have_ and he only gave me five minutes no matter how much I asked him."

"Maybe you were just asking in a rather _rude_ way."

"Since when have _I_ ever been rude?" Leila shrilled.

"You're being a right git now!"

The Third Year had almost been completely forgotten in the midst of their argument. He could only flounder, standing in the middle of a veritable battlefield. He had only come to ask Timothy for possible help in his mathematics homework.

Harry sat smiling to the side. Honestly, urging on Leila had been the best decision he had made since coming here. It had barely been a day since he had spoken to her and already she was blatantly challenging Timothy at every corner. In defense, he had to always be on his toes and Harry could already see him working harder to maintain his position.

Harry glanced again at the lost Third Year and sighed. It wasn't honestly fair to keep the kid in the middle of his two experiments. As entertaining as it was to watch, it would be best to get the child out of the way.

"Hey," he said to the boy, trying to make himself heard through the argument.

The boy quickly turned his head Harry's direction and a look of relief melted his features. Without a second glance back, he ducked beneath the onslaught and made his way over to Harry.

As he came to a stop before him, Harry gently ruffled a hand through the boy's chestnut locks and said, "They've been a bit touchy lately. Why don't you go ask the teacher and if he doesn't give you enough information, head over to the library, okay? The books that could help should be in the bookshelves closest to the south wall."

The boy gave Harry a grateful look before scurrying away. Harry watched the Third Year flee for a few moments before he turned back to the situation at hand.

Leila and Timothy were, quite literally, standing nose to nose over the table. It seemed like Leila was second away from giving her friend the beating of his life while Timothy was trembling from his anger. It painted quite a funny picture in Harry's opinion. He would have been content in allowing it all to play out but figured that it would be suspicious if he just sat here. He was supposed to be their friend and friends didn't just sit there smiling during a clash of wills like this. They were making great progress anyway so Harry felt inclined to help them cool down a bit.

"Hey guys," he began. "I think you should just calm down and –"

Leila whirled on him with the ferocity of a dragon. "Keep out of this!" she snarled. "This is a matter between _us_!"

Well, that was actually…unexpected. Harry hadn't thought she would be so irritated at his interruption. He actually thought she would welcome it. She was the rational one. Harry reasoned that she, of the two, would be the more accepting. Maybe it was a moody girl thing.

Harry held up his hands placatingly. "Look, I just don't think you guys should be arguing like this. You have been friends for so long and I don't like watching you go through this."

Timothy pursed his lips and closed his eyes in a clear attempt to gain control of himself. He had never been one for self control but with the prestige he was gaining among his classmates, he found that such control was necessary. When Timothy finally opened his eyes and turned to Harry, he said, "I think Harry's right, Leila. I shouldn't be arguing with you like this." He grimaced. "I'm sorry."

Leila huffed but didn't reply. Instead, she fixed her piercing gaze on Harry for reasons he couldn't, for once, fathom. Why was she till angry? Did it upset her that much to be interrupted? "Well then." She tore her eyes away to glance around for the Third Year. "Where is the kid? I thought he needed help."

"I sent him off," Harry replied with a shy smile. "You guys were a bit…occupied."

If anything, that seemed to increase Leila's irritation and she angrily began to gather he belongings.

"Where are you going?" Timothy asked, a note of panic and worry in his voice. "I said I was sorry!"

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. That was something he expected a five year old to say. But he restrained himself and watched as Leila mutely stalked away with all of her materials in hand and her nose high in the air.

Timothy groaned and thumped his forehead rather heavily on the table. "What did I do wrong this time, Harry?"

For once, Harry wasn't exactly sure it had been Timothy's fault at all.

~0~

Severus really hated it people couldn't follow simple directions. Really, what was so difficult about it? It didn't even require one to think. Perhaps that was why he was currently under the impression that Neville Longbottom lacked brain cells. He was fairly sure that the boy had destroyed more cauldrons than any other student in Hogwarts history. The child always forgot _something_ and Severus had to deal with the mess afterward. It only took a wave of his wand to fix it all but it was the repetitive accidents that irked him to no end.

"Mr. Longbottom," he hissed under his breath, holding the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Is it really so difficult to read and follow directions?"

The plump boy flushed in embarrassment and averted his eyes fearfully. "Y-yes sir."

Merlin, the boy needed help. You didn't just go and admit to your _professor_ that you had trouble following directions. Anybody who was anybody knew that it was a rhetorical question purely meant to vent frustration. Who on this earth actually replied with so silly an answer? Even he, as a student, had known better.

Severus cleaned Longbottom's mess up with a wave of his wand and directed his fierce gaze upon the boy. "Perhaps if you actually took the time to pay attention I would not have to deal with your incessant quagmires. I am tiring of your constant lack of ability and if you do not improve your unsightly performances, I might have to consider _lowering_ you a year in this class." Although, that was actually rather a bluff. Severus had no intention of keeping back Longbottom in his class any longer than had had to. "Back to your work," he snarled at the rest of the class. "I do not need the lot of you staring at yet another one of Mr. Longbottom's failures when you have potions to finish."

He was about to whirl back around towards the front of the class again when, for the first time, he heard a soft voice speak just a seat behind Longbottom.

"Professor?" The voice was so unassuming, so easily passed over, that Severus most likely would have not heard it at all if he had not been so close already.

He glanced over to see the piercing (_familiar, _but he refused to believe it) emerald eyes of Harry Evans looking back at him. Even then, the boy wasn't looking directly at his eyes, but downcast a little to avoid such a confrontation. "What is it, Mr. Evans?" It was strange for Severus to see nobody else taking interest in this exchange. As if it were too insignificant.

"I think some of Neville's potion spilled on me, sir, when it exploded slightly. And I know we are only brewing a Dizziness Draught but Neville accidentally added the belladonna a little early and I just want to make sure that there won't be any side effects."

It was a good thing the boy had mentioned it. Adding the belladonna before stirring the potion three times clockwise ended up turning it into a hysteria draught that often caused mental disease if not treated immediately. Severus had thought he had been sure that none had spilled beyond Longbottom's vicinity. He had even cast a subtle spell to check immediately after the potion had exploded. Why had he overlooked Evans (with so familiar a last name)? He had been paying attention to the boy especially after Dumbledore had mentioned it during the meeting a few months ago. Nothing had really changed about the boy during that time and it rather unnerved Severus to suddenly realize that, ever so slowly, his attention was beginning to slip just a bit when it came to monitoring the squib.

"Come with me," Severus said.

Evans hastily replied, "I could just go to the Hospital Wing sir. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

"It is best that I treat it now. I wouldn't want the side effects to suddenly ail you on your way up."

The boy immediately quieted after that and he meekly complied, following after Severus with a silent invisibility that seemed to avoid all notice.

Once they entered his office adjacent to the potions room, Severus closed the door behind them and quickly began to scour his shelves for an antidote. He motioned for Evans to settled himself in one of the chairs available while searching and a few minutes passed by with only the clinking of vials and jars to disturb the air.

"Drink this," Severus commanded when he finally found the correct antidote and settled down in the chair opposite the boy's.

Evans gasped the vial delicately in his hands and he seemed to hesitate just the slightest bit with his nose twitching almost imperceptibly before he quickly tipped it back and swallowed the entirety. The sudden speed and decisiveness of the motion actually startled Severus a little. It was uncharacteristic.

"Thank you," Evans said softly, handing back the now-empty container. He smiled tentatively. "It tasted better than I thought it would."

Severus had to struggle not to quirk his lips up in a smile at that and nodded briskly to mask his amusement. "If you feel any side effects even after that, do not hesitate to go to the Hospital Wing or ask me for assistance. Whichever one is closer to you."

Evans nodded and smiled again, ready to stand up and exit when, suddenly, the boy flinched and Severus felt a burning sensation in his left arm that he had not felt for many years.

_It can't be._ The Dark Lord couldn't get in here. The connection between his Mark and his old master had become null after he had escaped to the Light. If he could feel the Dark Lord's call through his mark then he had to alert the headmaster as quickly as possible. For all he knew, maybe his old master had found a way past the barrier after so many years. This just couldn't be possible otherwise. He hadn't burned in so long –

And suddenly it died away as quickly as it had come.

Severus lurched in shock as a fierce grip suddenly slammed his left arm on to the desk in front of him and a low, dangerous voice hissed, "You wear the Mark?"

The Potions Master stared incredulously at the boy now looming above him. Evans had moved too quickly for even him to react and there was nothing meek about the boy now. There was such fire and power in those emerald eyes. Severus had to wonder how he could have possibly believed the child to be so quiet before. He now knew it had all been an act. An act that would have lasted had his Dark Mark not acted up…

"I do not know what you are talking about," Severus snapped, refusing to look away from Evans's piercing gaze. "And I will not tolerate this sort of treatment, Mr. Evans. Let go of my arm and you will leave with only a detention with Mr. Filch later tonight."

Evans only tightened his grip at this and leaned closer. "I sincerely doubt that you do not know what I am talking about, _professor_." The last word had been a sneer, mocking the title. "After all, how could you not feel the burning of the Mark your master bestowed you with?" The boy abruptly gripped Severus's left sleeve and, before the Potions Master could do anything about it, yanked it down to reveal the black skull and snake against white skin.

Severus could only stare in horrified fascination as Evans's mouth parted slightly at the sight and his eyes hooded over in a glaze. The former Death Eater didn't need to ask to know that the boy was sensing, feeling, _tasting_ the Dark Magic that oozed from the Mark. Once upon a time, Severus had done the same when dabbling the forbidden arts.

He twitched as the boy lowered gentle fingers to the Mark and whispered, "So you are a follower."

"Was," Severus bit out reflexively. "I _was_ a follower."

Evans's eyes narrowed at those words and he focused his striking eyes back upon his professor's onyx ones. "Nobody betrays the Dark Lord. Once a follower, always a follower." A smirk touched the child's lips. "Even in death."

Severus stiffened. What was this boy talking about? What did this squib know? Surely, he didn't know anything about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. It was a miracle that the child had even known about the Mark. It had been forgotten, lost in memory by those of the Light once the barrier had gone up. Who was this boy to show up out of nowhere and suddenly know so much?

"Who are you?" he asked harshly, throwing subtlety and caution to the winds. There was no use for them now. "Who are you? Is your name even Harry?"

"It might please you to know that my name really is Harry," the boy smiled viciously before withdrawing his vice-like grip and settling comfortably back into the chair across the table. He leaned forward and clapped his hands together in front of his mouth while leaning his elbows on his knees in contemplation. "But Evans…Evans is not my last name."

That was a relief. "Then I ask again," Severus snarled. "Who are you?"

"Do you really think me dull enough to actually answer that?" Harry smirked. "No, of course not. Maybe you have forgotten, but I am a Slytherin as well. In far more than mere name."

So the boy wanted to play this game? This dance of words?

"I'll give you my word that the mention of your Mark will not pass beyond this room so long as _my_ own secrets remain locked in here as well," the boy said. "Not a word of this will be known by anybody else."

Severus couldn't agree to that. Dumbledore needed to know that the Mark had burned again. "I think that I cannot stake such a promise, Mr. Evans. Perhaps if you had magic at your disposal we could have made a magically binding contract but with your lack of such resources we cannot ensure that neither of us will keep our own end of the bargain."

"Really?" Harry mused as if he were addressing a child. "Perhaps my magic is only…unattainable at the moment. It could not hurt to try a contract. The worst that could happen is that it wouldn't work."

_No, the worst thing that could happen is that it actually would work._ "Very well," Severus replied curtly. There shouldn't be anything to fear. It was impossible, what the boy was saying. Having unattainable magic was the definition of a squib.

The child leaned forward and Severus had to force himself not to hesitate when reaching out to encase their arms in a firm grip at the elbows. "What form of contract?" he asked, sure Evans wouldn't be quite familiar with the many forms.

"Unbreakable." There was laughter in those brilliant eyes, as if the boy was taking vicious pleasure in playing his professor's ignorance.

Severus tightened his lips and he said, "Are you quite sure? An Unbreakable Vow would mean – "

"I know what it means," Harry murmured. "And I still mean it when I say Unbreakable."

There was a moment of tense silence before the Potions Master slowly took out his wand. He had half a mind to Obliviate the squib and have all this done and over with but something about the child made his senses scream danger and his senses had never wronged him before.

"I, Severus Snape, swear upon my magic that I shall not speak of anything that has transpired between myself and Harry Evans to anybody outside of this room."

A slow grin mocked the professor before the boy returned, "I, Harry Evans, swear upon my magic that I shall not speak of anything that has transpired between myself and Severus Snape to anybody outside of this room."

Severus couldn't help but watch in horror as threads of magic entwined their arms from his wand and the boy's fingers. Where the magic was coming from, he couldn't say but it seemed as if the child was using his own body to act as a conduit for the magic that was apparently hibernating within him.

Once the threads disappeared, Severus jerked his arm away and snapped, "Out."

The squib (was he actually a squib Severus wondered) actually laughed at his professor's reaction and sauntered out the door with all the happiness of a good day's work accomplished.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late and rather short chapter. School is starting up soon and I, once again, have to go to war with my counselor to make sure that I end up with the classes I want...bleh. <strong>

**Anyway, Snape really isn't going to be a sort of mentor type at all. Harry doesn't really need it...yet. I guess it will be a rather grudging relationship of acquaintances for now. What do you guys think? **

**Probably will mention Draco next chapter just because it's fun to write about his mishaps. By the way, do any of you like Luna a lot by any chance? I might or might not put her in the story. Depends.**

**Till next time! :D**


	13. Male Pixies Wear Dresses

**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

**And thanks to all my reviewers! Those comments you guys leave mean a lot. :)**

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><p>"<strong>You seem pleased,"<strong> a soft voice hissed in Harry's ear. **"Are your plans going according to plan?"**

Harry turned away from the mathematics problems he was completing to smile smugly at the Basilisk. **"Of course. And I have found a new toy to play with."**

"**Toy?"**

A smirk touched Harry's lips. **"Quite. It appears that my professor was not always a follower of the Light."**

It had turned out that the Basilisk was far more intelligent company than any Harry had encountered since escaping Tom's realm. Although ignorant of the more recent worldly events, she knew the natures of magic. He could converse with her about different theories and forms that he had been harboring and she was often the highlight of his day should he find the chance to visit.

"**What shall you do with him?"** she mused aloud.

"**Nothing…for now. I see no use for him yet but I can imagine how he might eventually act as a buffer between me and the Light Lord here."**

The Basilisk was quiet for time, allowing Harry to accomplish a piece more of his assignment. Then she abruptly asked, **"But would it not be difficult to control him? He is not so naïve as the younglings you associate with and he has tasted the Darkness. Surely he will not be so easily fooled?"**

"**That is true," **Harry turned away from his work again to ponder aloud. **"He is rather accomplished in the Mind Arts. I have tested his defenses and they are solid. And as a past follower of my original self, I can imagine that he would have the ability to not only defend, but also attack. He did not do so back during our confrontation but I think it was largely due to the surprise." **He grinned at that. It was hilarious to see the man's expression when the Unbreakable Vow had actually worked. Harry himself hadn't been quite sure whether his magic would spark to life but now he knew that so long as another wizard approved by the Light barrier pulled at his magic, he could use it even outside of the Chamber of Secrets.

And, of course, Snape had expected the Vow not to work even if there was magic put into it because a bonder was needed, a third castor. But Tom, being the paranoid lord he was, had long devised a way to cast the spell without the use of a bonder, giving whoever channeled the magic of the Unbreakable Vow to have the advantage. Whoever controlled the magic during that time could mold the spell to his/her liking.

Tom had eventually taught Harry how to do so for his eleventh birthday. Reluctantly, of course, should the spell be used in a manner against the Dark Lord's wishes but Harry had desired it and earned it. Tom had probably figured that even if Harry did use the Vow in a way, he could always possess his Horcrux and reverse the effects.

So to watch the horror and shock on the professor's face as the spell worked and know that, even then, the man didn't know only _he_ was being bound to the promise, was the funniest thing Harry had seen for months. Harry was free to speak of the conversation as he wished while the Potions Master was tied to the spell and forbidden to do the same.

But Snape had been an accomplished Occlumens and Harry had to assume that the man was also an accomplished Legilimens. He would have to take some precautions to ensure that the professor couldn't see into his mind. There were charms and spells for that and Harry would need it since magic was needed to Occlude.

"**How are your little experiments?" **the Basilisk asked, growing bored of Harry's silence. **"You mentioned their names once…Leila and Timothy?"**

"**They are moving along," **Harry murmured. ** "But…"**

"**But?"**

Harry shook his head and looked away. **"It is nothing. I am probably just being paranoid. Tom is rubbing off on me."**

The great snake oozed disbelief but she relented and curled in upon herself (or as much as she could in the room Harry was resting in) for a nap before the fireplace where black flames resided.

Harry watched the Basilisk and smiled to himself. He was sure Tom would have appreciated seeing such a sight again. Maybe if his guardian did manage to break down the Light barrier, Harry could bring her out and Tom could greet her again. Tom always did have a soft spot for snakes.

But, speaking of Tom, Harry couldn't quite figure out what he was doing back in the professor's office. Tom had obviously been trying to breach the barrier somehow and he had clearly been in Harry's mind again. But almost immediately, he had withdrawn without so much as a quick spark of pain. It had been a lucky occurrence at the time since Snape might have figured out Harry's connection to the Dark Lord had he fallen screaming to the floor, but there was something baffling about it that didn't sit well with Harry at all. Why bother trying to breach the barrier?

It itched and ate at Harry like a virus but there was honestly nothing he could do about it. Tom had been doing whatever he had been doing and there was probably no use in agonizing over it. Harry's main concern should be with his experiments and Snape right now.

Harry cleared his head of his thoughts and cast a quick Tempus to check the time. **"I have to go now. I will be back."**

The Basilisk lazily opened one eye to acknowledge she had heard and promptly returned to her slumber as Harry walked out the door.

~0~

Draco rammed a fist into a nearby tree trunk and let out a hoarse growl of frustration. He had been through ten towns. _Ten towns._ And still no news of Harry. He honestly shouldn't have been expecting so much so early but he couldn't help but feel optimistic after his luck in the first town. He had thought Harry had been lax in his escape and maybe the tracks would have been easy to find. But after visiting the one town the Sara girl had mentioned, Draco had only gotten the vague piece of information that the Dark Lord's ward had gone north.

"Where could he be?" Draco groaned to himself. This was his fifth night in a row in this location and sleeping in a tent had already become rather old. He had been agonizing over where to go next but he just couldn't quite make up his mind.

"Where could who be?"

Draco yelped (much to his embarrassment) and whirled around so quickly he ended up in an undignified heap on the ground. Something small and _glittery_ fluttered right up to his nose and he was forced to look cross-eyed in order to see exactly what was addressing him.

"Ha! Did I scare you?" laughed the tiny pixie. Draco wanted nothing more than to squish the little animal under his shoes. It was clearly a girl if the miniscule dress indicated anything. But Draco had never really studied the small race of pixies before and for all he knew, they could be asexual.

Draco irritably swatted at the thing and pushed himself back up into a standing position. "What are you doing here?"

The pixie giggled. "I live here, silly!"

Merlin spare him. The damn thing liked to giggle and talk like a godforsaken toddler. Wasn't it bad enough that he had a disgusting weak witch pining after him? He didn't need a pixie, of all things, to become a problem.

"Then find some other _tree_ to build your disgusting hovel," Draco sneered. "I don't need annoyances like you bothering me right now."

"Oh…so you're one of the cranky type," laughed the pixie.

Draco was embarrassed to admit that he was actually offended by the thing's comment. "No, I am _not_ cranky. I am just treating filthy animals like you as you should be treated."

He yelped again, this time in pain, as a sharp stinging suddenly assailed his cheek. He brought a hand up and then pulled it away to see a small streak of blood on his fingers.

"You bit me!" he shrieked. "You _bit_ me! Merlin, you could _rabies_ for all I know! How _dare_ you!"

The pixie huffed and crossed its arms, floating just above Draco's head. "I do not have rabies. I clean myself every day and my teeth are the shiniest of my family's! And you're not quite so pleasant yourself, Mr. I'm-So-High-and-Mighty."

"Well I am high and mighty," Draco snapped. "I am far worthier than you will ever be."

The pixie bared its sharp teeth. "Worthy? For what?"

"Forget it. You're probably too dull to even understand. Go and find yourself something else to do. Maybe go and do your hair or whatever you girly pixies do."

"I am _male_, thank you very much," the pixie snapped. "And I won't stand for your behavior, wizard."

Oh. So pixies did have sexes. And apparently, the males liked to wear dresses. Magical creatures really were strange. "What are you going to do about it?" Draco jeered. "You're smaller than my thumb!"

"I am tall for a pixie and I can do a _lot_ to you if you keep on being mean."

Draco sneered and turned away dismissively. "I have nothing to worry about from you."

"Fine then," smirked the pixie. "Have it your way."

~0~

"I don't know," murmured a Second Year Ravenclaw squib. "I don't know, Leila…that sounds…"

"I don't plan on doing it right away," Leila replied reassuringly. "I just wanted to know if you would like that. If you would support me."

"Well…I don't know…"

"So you don't want to be equal? To be finally on the same footing?"

"I'm not saying that!" the girl snapped. "I just don't know if that would be the right way to go about it. Timothy doesn't think so."

Leila's lips tightened at that but she continued sweetly, "It's okay. Just think about it alright?"

"A-alright."

She watched the younger girl sprint away and crossed her arms. This wasn't working. Everybody Leila had tried to talk to had only evaded her and she had no doubt they were thinking her idea crazy. Timothy didn't know she was doing this, of course. He didn't know she was going about spreading the idea of actually facing the magicals.

But was sure of it now. She knew this was the only way. If they remained obedient little lambs forever, nothing would change. She could do this. She just had to convince people to believe her, to think the same. They were all too nervous, too brainwashed to think otherwise. Timothy was far too gone. He didn't believe her.

Her best friend was actually the largest problem in her endeavors. He was partly the reason why everybody didn't wish to believe her. He thought it was crazy so they did too.

Leila ran her fingers through her hair angrily and snapped around to make her way towards the Ravenclaw common rooms. Ideas whirled through her head as she briskly walked but none of them seemed to have potential. She could do it Timothy's way but she knew that she just didn't have the same charisma that he did. He could make friends with anybody now. She would still rather read all day alone.

She was about to turn a corner into a crossway between the halls when the sudden shuffling and clamor halted her in her path. Leila quickly jumped back behind the corner and cautiously glanced around to see what was happening.

This was one of the only crossways where a magical might encounter a non-magical. One path led to some of the magical classes while another was a path towards the Science labs. Most squibs took the long way around to avoid running into wizards and witches but there were those few who were in a hurry enough to dare the path. The only reason Leila had been going this direction was because she knew that this time nobody went this way during this time. It was a few minutes just before lunch and most students were already in the Great Hall.

"What do you think you're doing?" snarled a Ravenclaw wizard. "I thought I told you to watch your step!" His wand was out and pointing rather threateningly at another smaller Ravenclaw. The small boy was sadly a squib Leila recognized, one of those painfully shy ones who barely made it through the day without having a panic attack.

"I-I'm s-sorry…"

"This is the third time!" the wizard snarled. "Watch where your feet are going or I'll make sure that you don't have feet to worry about anymore!"

The boy whimpered and clumsily scrabbled backwards only to trip on one of the books he had dropped upon colliding with the older wizard earlier. He fell heavily and painfully on his right wrist, which brought forth a pained cry from his lips.

"Merlin, will you ever shut up?" the wizard growled. "You're like a damn baby!"

The squib cradled his right wrist but remained silent. He flinched as the other boy moved but his expression melted into open relief as his tormentor turned away and down the hallway to their Common Room.

Leila watched as the boy miserably picked up his books and she realized that this was what she wanted to prevent. This was what she wanted to protect people like her from. This was how wizards and witches treated them and it wasn't right. She wouldn't stand for this.

She moved out of her corner to walk up to the boy and smiled. "Do you need help with those?"

The boy looked at her with large eyes and mutely nodded as if he had never seen anything like her before, as if he had never seen somebody offer help. Now that Leila thought about it, he probably didn't.

She quickly picked up all of his belongings and placed them into his hands with a pleasant smile. "There. Those are all of your things, right?"

"Yes," the boy said back, his voice so quiet that she almost didn't hear him. "Thank you."

Leila grinned. Maybe if she used this situation to her advantage, she could turn this boy towards her beliefs. He wasn't much, but maybe he would be helpful in the future. "I'm Leila," she said and extended her hand. "What's your name?"

The boy stared at her hand like it was from outer space before clumsily shifting his belongings to his other arm and shaking hers tentatively. "I'm Cole."

"Well, Cole," she smiled. "Let's take you to the Hospital Wing to see what we can do about that wrist."

~0~

Harry fingered a blade of grass as he gazed aimlessly over the Black Lake. Really, he didn't see anything quite black about it. It was a rather beautiful shade of blue under the sky today and a soft wind was caressing his hair. He felt oddly calm and peaceful right now. Even with Timothy rambling beside him, he found that he was content.

"I don't understand!" Timothy groaned into his hands. "She didn't show up for lunch now! What did I do wrong _this time_?"

It had been just yesterday that they had their little argument about what the Third Year should do for help and Timothy was still agonizing over it. He still thought the blame lie with him. Harry believed it too but an uncomfortable part of him was beginning to think that it was also his fault as well.

"Maybe she had extra work to do," Harry replied soothingly. "You know how she is."

"But she has never missed lunch with us! Not even that one day I embarrassed her in the middle of the Great Hall!"

Harry sighed and let go of the grass he was toying with to focus his attention on his experiment. "Look, maybe she had something come up. Maybe she needed to talk to a teacher or research something. There's something bound to happen once in a while. We can't expect her to come every day."

Timothy visibly deflated and relaxed at those words and he fell backwards on to the grass with a great sigh of his own. "You're probably right, Harry." He grinned lopsidedly. "I don't know what I'd do without you now."

"I don't know what I'd do without _you_," Harry smiled back. "You've helped me so much. Thank you."

Timothy flushed in embarrassment but he smiled too. "I don't know. You've really improved and I think you've really helped me. I guess before you came, I was a bit shyer, not so outgoing. Helping you helped me and I guess I sort of owe you one." He laughed. "Merlin knows, you keep my head on nowadays with Leila going crazy on me!"

Harry laughed too. "Girls. We'll never understand them, you know."

That made Timothy laugh harder and he finally loosened his body, his darker thoughts floating away as they spoke. "I trust you, Harry. I really do and I guess this sounds sentimental and stupid but I think I just might trust you as much as I do Leila. And I've only known you for a fraction of the time I've known her!"

That was good. If Timothy was to mold to Harry's liking, having the Gryffindor's trust was exactly what would make things easier.

"I trust you too, Timothy."

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><p><strong>Wow, I actually got this chapter in so early :0 Well, my chapter 13s are always my most dreaded ones because...well...13 is an unlucky number :P I am superstitious at times. <strong>

**Oh, and thanks to Picas Lei-Fur for pointing out my little flaw with the Unbreakable Vow. It does require a bonder but, as you read, I planned on making so that they didn't need a third witch or wizard there. I guess I should have made that point in chapter 12...**

**Don't you love Draco? He gets caught up in the most hilarious situations. Just imagine him talking to a pixie. **

**And no, Harry doesn't really trust Timothy. He was just saying that because it fit the conversation. I guess that was obvious but I wanted to point that out just in case. **

**Leila being all Slytherin-like? Yup. Trust me, it doesn't occur often but she has her moments. **

**This was sort of one of those in-between chapters. Nothing really major happened yet. Well, nothing really major has happened yet period but this chapter was extra event-less. But I'll be sure to make it up in the next chapter! **

**Till next time! :D**


	14. My Student is a Dark Wizard

**I do not own anything that could get me sued. **

**Thanks to all my reviewers! I love how supportive and helpful you guys are :)**

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><p>Draco was fairly sure he had fallen asleep on his soft mattress with silk covers to keep him relatively warm. He was also fairly sure he had been within the confines of his tent where a mass of wards and misdirecting spells were placed along the perimeter to ensure his safety during his slumber.<p>

Yet, for reasons Draco had yet to fathom, he woke up to the uncomfortable sensation of sitting awkwardly on a stone-cold floor with his hands restrained in front of him and a single piece of thick cloth covering his eyes.

At first, he had panicked. He had thought his eyesight had somehow deteriorated due to lack of sleep or some wizard had managed to break his wards and blind him with a spell. When he had reached for his wand hidden within his sleeves, he was even more mortified to discover that he didn't have his wand in place. Or his sleeves, for that matter. All he felt when groping for the familiar grip of his wand was bare skin and as his hands traveled further and further up his arms in hopes of finding _something_ to grip, he was absolutely terrified to realize that there was actually nothing to reach for.

And upon further inspection, he found that the only thing he had on to protect his modesty was his boxers.

If there was one thing purebloods of noble Dark lineage had a problem with aside from anything remotely related to Light magic, it was a lack of modesty. When Draco had once stumbled upon Crabbe and Goyle staring transfixed at a booklet he later learned was called "porn" while they were passing by a Muggle village, he had almost gone and died right there. What in Merlin's name did these Muggles do in their free time? Didn't they have anything better to do than look at things like that? And what sort of immodest woman dared to show _that_ much skin? It was ridiculous. If anything, the experience had only assured Draco of the Muggles' inferiority. Only animals were interested in such vulgar things. (Which, of course, made Crabbe and Goyle practically animals themselves but Draco had known that from the start. They were possibly the dullest people he had yet to meet.)

Draco could only sit in absolute mortification, his cheeks flaming red. He was wandless, virtually blind, tied, and almost completely _bare_. It was the worst situation he had ever found himself in; there was no doubt about that.

Who were his captors? What did they intend to do with him? How had they discovered his identity? Were they wizards? They had to be! Who else could have gotten past his wards? He was by no means weak. He could defeat almost everybody part of the Dark Lord's order with the exception of the Inner Circle and he had fifteen years of intense magical training and knowledge under his belt. He had been trained to get out of situations like this with his wand.

But now that Draco sat alone and helpless, he was suddenly struck by how much he actually relied on that one object. It was virtually a piece of wood with some magical ingredients within it but it had become so much more than that to him over the years. It had become a part of himself, a part that he couldn't even fathom being without. He did everything with it from summoning a cup of tea from across the room or striking down a troll that had wandered into his path. It was his access to magic and now that he was without it, Draco realized just how weak he was without it.

_Weak_.

He had never applied the word to himself before. Never. While he was certainly not the strongest, he was far from weak. Draco was born nobility with a strong affinity for his magic. Of course he wasn't weak. But that thought had come while he was holding his wand, when all he had ever really known was his wand in hand. And now that he was without it, he was struck with a sort of stunned amazement.

And panic. Of course there was panic.

Draco didn't know for how long he sat there alone. He had a feeling it was only a few minutes but he was feeling oddly detached by the horror of his predicament. For all he really knew, it could have been an hour or longer.

When a soft creaking slightly to his left indicated an opening door, Draco immediately whipped his head towards the direction of the noise and hastily shifted on the spot, awkwardly aware of his lack of clothing again. The person who had entered laughed at his movement and Draco was startled by how light it sounded. He had the vague impression that the laughter of a captor would me much more oppressive.

"Shy?" the voice chuckled.

Draco summoned all the dignity he had left to summon and schooled his face into a sneer. "Hardly. Just revolted by the presence of _filth_."

"I'd watch it," the voice said now devoid of humor. "I'm not the one sitting tied up, am I?"

Draco scowled but he refused to stand down. "Who are you? Where am I? Why have you captured me like this?"

A hand harshly grabbed Draco's hair and forced his head backwards against the stone. He grit his teeth at the sudden pain but managed to keep a grimace off his face. "Don't act like you do not know," the voice snarled. "You have done a high offense, a great crime and you know it."

If anything, this was one of the last things Draco had expected to hear. Maybe something along the lines of his being a Malfoy or being the Dark Lord's follower but he had no idea what this "great crime" could be. What had he done the last few weeks that remotely resembled a crime? Perhaps he had fought off a few cumbersome thieves and thugs along the way but that was hardly anything anybody else wouldn't do.

"What are you talking about?" he spat. "I haven't done anything!"

There was a resounding crack throughout the room as stars suddenly dotted Draco's vision despite the blindfold and a white pain besieged his right cheek. He fell with a gasp to the floor and the right side of his face throbbed.

"Insolent child. We found you with it. You cannot deny your crime."

"Maybe if you told me what 'it' was, I would actually know what you're talking about!" Draco snapped. He had dealt with pain before. He had grown up in a world that ensured you went through such an experience. This he could deal with. It was nothing compared to the Cruciatus Curse.

Draco was pulled upright by his hair and shoved forward with his face to the wall. He instinctively placed his hands in front of him to lessen the impact but this time he did grimace. Whoever was speaking to him was strong.

"Hands above your head and against the wall," the voice commanded.

Draco wanted nothing more than to retaliate but he had been taught to obey such demands when captured. It made things easier for him until the actual questioning began. So he brought his arms up and leaned his weight against the wall. The grooves of the stones cut into his skin but he didn't react. He only waited for the voice to speak again.

"Stay put and don't move." It was all the voice said before it walked away, its footsteps eventually dying into silence.

Draco hadn't heard the door close but he didn't dare move from the spot he was commanded to stay at. He was blindfolded and his hands were literally tied. Even if he did attempt an escape, he wouldn't get very far with his lack of vision. Draco was surprised that his captor had only hit him once before leaving but perhaps the torture would come later. He anticipated it. How else was the voice going to get information from him?

And what was this about a crime? No matter how he tried to remember, Draco couldn't recall anything he had done that could be labeled as such. Maybe his captor had mistaken him for another person. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. Maybe Draco had actually done something that could be labeled a great crime in these areas. Maybe he could convince his captor that he had the wrong person, that this was just an accident. Maybe he could find an opening later, sometime when he was free of his blindfold and escape.

But all he could do now, really, was wait.

~0~

Voldemort brooded as the darkening sky matched his mood. He wasn't plotting or planning, as strange as it was for him. No, he was just sitting for once and aimlessly fingering the silver bangle his charge had given him a few years ago. His blood red eyes tore themselves away from the window and settled upon the gift with a hint of irritation. He had been tempted to destroy it, turn it into ashes and stomp it beneath his feet when he had first discovered Harry's disappearance. It was a gross, sentimental reminder of the boy, a sick symbol of weakness he had allowed himself to succumb to.

But the action would have been childish and further testimony to his weakness. He, the Dark Lord Voldemort, couldn't allow himself to brood over a child. So he had kept it but he had kept it well hidden and out of sight. Only recently he had pulled it back out, hoping to find some way to further trace his ward with it. He hadn't found the bangle's counterpart when scouring Harry's quarters, which meant the boy, had hidden it or taken it with him while finding some way to mute the tracking charms on it. Either way, Voldemort couldn't trace the boy's location and he was currently wondering why. Harry was strong, but he still had quite a ways to go. There was no reason Voldemort couldn't locate his charge through this trinket.

But just a moment ago, he had succeeded. He still had to research why he couldn't access it easier but the success had been a sort of fluke as much as he hated to admit it. By pure chance, Harry had come into close quarters with another of Voldemort's spells or objects that contained his lingering magical signature at the same time he had been trying to track the child through the bangle. The end result was a brief, but strong connection. He had actually been able to feel his Horcrux back in the quarter of his mind where they were always tied again and hear the child's thoughts before _something_ got in the way again.

But that was little deterrent for the Dark Lord. He would figure it out before long.

~0~

Severus did his utmost to openly glare at one Harry Evans while stalking about his classroom. He had avoided the boy for the past few days, glad that the boy didn't have Potions until today. The separation had given him time to organize his thoughts and come up with a plan of action. It had been quite a shock to feel the Dark Lord's presence again after so many years and almost a greater shock to see a _squib_ student of his speaking of matters that he shouldn't have known anything about at all.

Severus had planned on speaking to the headmaster immediately. Even if he couldn't speak of the specifics, he could always drop subtle hints that he had no doubt the Light Lord would catch. But for some unexplainable reason, he had been unable to do even that. Apparently, when the boy had said keeping everything that happened in that room to themselves, he had meant even thoughts and suspicions. He could barely utter the name Harry Evans without having chills crawling up his spine and a pressure from the ambient magic around him as a reminder of his vow. So he had finally given up and concluded that the only way to deal with the problem was to face it.

Still, watching the boy made him apprehensive. Now that he was aware of what the child was truly like, he was always searching for hints of that strong personality. But it never surfaced. And when he had tried Legilimency on Evans, all he got was an annoyingly blank white landscape.

As the class was dismissed, Severus irritably noted that Greengrass and Evans had, yet again, brewed a perfect potion before saying, "Mr. Evans, please remain behind. I must speak with you."

Several other students gave the squib a sidelong glance of brief curiosity before they lost interest and the boy left in his bubble of invisibility again. Only the Greengrass girl gave him a parting word before the room was devoid of anybody else but the two of them.

It annoyed Severus to no end to watch Evans calmly packing his things in the silence as if being alone with his professor was a common occurrence. The Potions Master flicked his wand once to shut the door as the boy finished his mundane duty before returning his glare back on the child.

They stared at each other for a few moments before a slight smirk touched the boy's lips and he sweetly asked, "What were you going to speak to me about, professor?"

"Don't take that tone with me, brat," Severus snapped. "You know full well why you are here."

"I certainly hope it is going to be quick," said Evans with laughter in his eyes. "I have dinner to attend."

"Well you're going to miss it if you have to. We need to speak of our little…incident and the vow that came with it."

All pretense of a quiet, sweet student evaporated as the boy crossed his arms. "What is there to speak about? We made a vow and we're both going to keep it. What more is there to it?"

"What more is there to it?" asked Severus incredulously. "You cannot seriously think that spouting all information about the Dark Lord and his workings like that in front of me does not warrant a talk between us?"

"I did not say much at all," the boy drawled. "I only commented that you have the Mark, which is physically obvious."

No, there was far much more to it than that. The squib had spoken as if he _knew_ as if he understood what it meant to be under the Dark Lord's rule. Given, the child had been in the Dark domain for the majority of his life, but that was far different from actually being a follower of the Dark Lord and carrying out his commands. The boy spoke as if he knew what it entailed to betray Voldemort and Severus knew for a fact that only those who truly did serve the Dark Lord could possibly understand the harsh ramifications of such betrayal. Not even Dumbledore could comprehend what a complete slap to the face it was to turn away and leave.

"Who are you?" Severus asked, his voice softer. "You _know_, do you not? I could hear it from our last exchange. You know what it means to have the Dark Lord's Mark."

Evan was silent for a while. His face was blank, devoid of emotion. But Severus knew that the boy was calculating the chances, calculating whether it would be worth it to reveal anything to his professor. That was what he and any other Slytherin would have done in the squib's place. Calculate and act accordingly.

"Did you join the Dark Lord because you wished to?" the boy finally asked. The way he asked revealed the question to be one of great importance, one that would decide the child's course of action afterwards.

Severus briefly contemplated lying, saying that he joined because of the Dark Lord's magnificence and his desire for power. But something told the Potions Master it was no use lying to this boy. He would know and that would be that.

"I joined the Dark Lord because he showed promise," he replied. "He had the power to carry out his claims and I believed in his reformations outside of his Muggle views. I thought it worth it. But certain events showed me otherwise and I am where I am now." It was simplistic but he wasn't about to share any more information.

Evans nodded at the reply and he said, "Swear to me upon your magic that you will not speak of anything I am about to show you or tell you. Swear to me that you will do me one favor in exchange for my information."

Severus certainly did not want to engage in any more binding vows. He didn't like being restrained any more than necessary. And he couldn't pledge himself to a favor that he wasn't so sure he would be willing to carry out. What if the child asked the impossible of him?

But then again, if he refused, he would get nothing and live in the constant worry of an unknown factor walking in Hogwarts' halls. He would always be wary of the child, never knowing the truth until it was too late.

"I swear upon my magic that I shall not speak of anything you are about to show me or tell me and I shall answer your call should you need a favor."

Evans nodded once again and he swiftly turned to sling his bag over his shoulder. "I need you to follow me unseen."

Severus complied and placed a Disillusionment charm over himself without another word. The boy glanced back once to ensure that his professor had done as he asked before striding to the door and opening it.

Almost immediately, the boy who had been speaking and negotiating like he had been a born gift to the world disappeared and the quiet squib who dared to take magical classes took his place. The clump of Ravenclaw students who had been passing by didn't even glance his direction as he shut the door behind him. Most craned a neck to see how badly the dreaded Potions Master had reprimanded another student but it was as if Evans didn't exist.

It was apparently what the child wanted and it was eerie how perfectly the squib managed to do it.

Severus trailed the Slytherin student up stairs, past students, and around other professors before he realized that they were walking into the Third Floor girl's bathroom. Just as he was about to step in, he froze and reached out a hand to grip the boy's shoulder. Evans stilled and tensed as if to attack before relaxing and saying, "Yes, it is a girl's bathroom. Whatever I wish to show you is in here."

Severus wasn't so sure about this anymore. Was the boy trying to prank him? Unhappy memories of James Potter and his little clan rose to the surface before he ruthlessly shoved them back. Yet the memories lingered and as he uncomfortably walked inside the bathroom, he couldn't help but think that Evans looked a lot like his old school-time bully. There was the same ruffled black hair, the same pale skin. But that was impossible. It was just coincidence.

The Potions Master was sharply pulled out of his thoughts as a familiar hissing escaped the boy's lips and he stared in shock as the center faucets rearranged themselves to reveal a sort of open pipeline in its place.

"You – You're a Parseltongue," he said dully, too startled to actually put any surprise into his voice.

The squib didn't comment on that but deigned to say, "Remove the disillusion. Nobody is going to see us now."

It was true. Nobody came in here with Moaning Myrtle on the loose. It was actually rather strange not to see the sobbing wraith here now. So he complied once again and removed his spell.

"Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets?" Evans asked as he began pacing slowly before the gaping entrance hole.

Severus paled. "I have. You cannot be saying…"

"Oh, of course I'm saying it," grinned the boy. Severus warily watched the child and he realized with an unsettled prickle down his arms that the squib had maneuvered himself so that he was at Severus's back. "You see, this castle has so much to offer and I stumbled across this nice surprise just a few weeks ago. It was quite a monumental find on my part but I was even more surprised to find it to be the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Slytherin really found the strangest of places to put his hideouts didn't he?" The confident persona was back now. "And the best part of it all is that the only way to get in…" Without warning, the boy lunged forward and shoved his professor and Severus was so startled by the action that he lost his balance and fell down the gaping hole in front of him. "…is to jump!"

For a terrifying and embarrassing moment, Severus thought that the boy had killed him. He had no way of judging how far down this entrance fell and the way he was falling, he would fall on his face and die from the impact. He groped for his wand within his robes and just as his fingers grasped the handle, his back collided with the smooth walls of the pipe and he realized that it was less of a direct fall and more of a slide. Just behind him, he could hear the boy laughing and sliding as well.

They fell in a heap at the bottom of the slide and Severus furiously brought himself back to his feet. "You impertinent child! What were you thinking pushing me down like that – "

"Calm down," smirked Evans. "I wasn't planning on killing you, if that was what you were thinking. I knew it was a slide down. I have been down here before. This was what I wanted to show you."

Severus glanced down and winced as he realized that they were standing on a large pile of bones both human and animal. "You wished to show me _this_?"

"No, no," waved the boy dismissively. "Follow me. This isn't quite it yet."

The Potions Master kept his hand on his wand this time, more wary of the squib. The boy seemed harmless but he had proven to be anything but. What sort of sick child pushed somebody down like that? It might have been a slide, but he could have just as easily hit his head on the pipe and caused damage. He had been lucky to fall on his back but if he had fallen on anything else, he most likely would have broken it. What worried him was that maybe the boy had taken that into account and hadn't cared.

They walked through a long passageway of crude cave walls and bones beneath their feet for a few minutes before they came to a stop before a circular doorway with six snakes molded to it. Again, the child hissed to it and the door promptly opened.

Severus could only gape as he stepped inside. It was as large and almost as grand as the Great Hall was. The gigantic snakes carved to line the pathway in were done in beautifully detailed precision and the black flames lighting the hall were an impressive feat of magic. After all, how could you get light from a _black_ flame? He observed the chamber for a few moments before he was finally hit with the taste he had almost forgotten.

"There's Dark magic here!" he said in disbelief. "That is not possible!"

"But it is, professor," smiled Evans. "This was Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Did you think he wouldn't have Dark magic constantly allowable down here?"

It made sense, actually. Severus didn't reply in favor of finally feeling the Darker magic seep into his skin. It had been years since he had last had contact and he had to admit that he had missed it. Leaving the Dark Lord's service had been the right choice, but he had felt sorely incomplete without the Dark magic he had dabbled in for years.

He had always been stronger with Dark magic. There was just something about it that welcomed him more than Light magic did, as if it knew his mistakes and faults but accepted him all the more for it. Severus eyed the boy and realized that now they were alone and he finally able to access Dark magic again, there was nothing holding him back from forcing the boy to speak. He didn't have to keep his promise from earlier; he had learned long ago a way to work around such promises. It was the Unbreakable he couldn't avoid but this, this he could defy and made up his mind.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, wand pointed at the squib.

Evans whirled around at the shout and Severus watched in horror as a large shield erected itself around the boy and the spell redirected. It was so completely unexpected he barely managed move out of the rebounding spell's way.

"Going back on our word already?" teased the boy as he stepped closer with an open smile dripping venom. "But I am hardly surprised. What I _am_ surprised by is that despite the Dark magic around you, you still use nothing more than a Stunning spell. I am rather disappointed, Severus Snape."

"I did not wish to hurt you – "

The boy actually burst into laughter at that. "Hurt me? _Here_? You are a fool, Snape, if you thought I would not lead you somewhere where I have the advantage."

"Do not speak so insolently to me," Severus snarled. "Watch your mouth, child, I still have my wand and we are alone."

"Are you blind?" Evans chuckled. "Did you just completely miss the fact that I just rebounded your pathetic excuse of a spell?"

Severus struggled for something to say, but for once, he had nothing to say. What could he do? The boy had actually cast a spell. Wandlessly _and_ wordlessly. Was he not a squib at all? Severus tightened his grip on his wand as Evans neared and he opened his mouth to cast another spell but the boy moved like a snake striking. A burst of magic came from the child again and this time, it threw his wand away from his grip.

"Look, I only wished to speak to you. Negotiate. Information for a favor," the boy relented. "I wasn't the one to start attacking."

Severus was silent before he finally asked, "What do you want from me?"

Evans didn't answer but walked up to his professor, reaching out. Severus instinctively stepped back but the boy gripped his left arm before he could move any more. The Slytherin student sharply drew back the sleeve like he had done a few days ago to reveal the Mark and this time placed a hand over it.

Severus stiffened as a sharp pain attacked his Mark and he immediately thought the Dark Lord's presence was acting up again. But as the pain continued, he realized that it was not so much the insistent summons he had always felt and instead the pain he had felt when first receiving his ties to the Dark.

When the boy finally pulled away, Severus stared in shock at the new silver snake entwining itself around the larger, black one already there.

"Dumbledore," Evans promptly replied in reply to Severus's previous question. "More precisely, I want you to keep him away from me, divert his attention. I have no doubt that he will pick up on me eventually. Make sure he doesn't find anything about me."

"What is this? What do you have to hide?" Severus asked, panic beginning to bloom in his mind.

Evans's mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. "Think, Snape. That addition to your Mark only ensures that you keep your word to our previous promises. But surely you can reason why, in this wonderfully _Light_ world, I need to keep my magic a secret?"

Ah, it was painfully obvious now. The boy had not performed magic until they went into the Chamber of Secrets. Never before. It would have suited the child's purposes better to use such magic earlier but seeing as how they had to walk all the way down here, it was now clear that the boy hadn't been able to use magic before they had arrived. And this was the only place in the Light barrier that allowed Dark magic.

Evans was a Dark wizard. As if that hadn't been apparent from the moment he had changed the Mark already.

"How?" Severus managed past his dry lips. "How are you not gone? How are you not like every other Dark wizard who had tried to enter?"

"I am not a pile of ash because I am not completely under the Dark Lord's jurisdiction," the boy replied promptly. "I do not necessarily support his cause, in other words."

The tense sense of apprehension loosened its hold on Severus's chest at the statement. So the Dark Lord hadn't found a way to sneak in spies. This boy wasn't loyal to Voldemort and that was something he could work with. Maybe he could convince the child to sympathize with the Light instead, turn him away from the Dark like they had the other Dark families.

"Who are you then?" Severus asked. "You have living in the Dark Lord's domain your life, haven't you? He does not allow just anybody to practice magic. And few can alter his Mark. I have tried to be rid of it for years but I could not free myself of it."

The boy smiled and smirked, "Information for another time. It would be suspicious should we not return soon." He paused and then grinned viciously. "But, Snape, I think it would do you well to know that the Mark only clings so insistently to those who do not want it to be gone."

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, three chapters in one week. You could say I was oddly struck with inspiration this week :)<strong>

**Anyway, you must be wondering why Harry is revealing the Chamber and things so early on after discovering Snape's Mark. Well, you'll hear his reasoning in the next chapter via his thoughts but hey he really had nothing to lose. Only to gain. Snape was stuck under the Unbreakable Vow while he was not. And getting him to keep Dumbledore away earlier was just a nice bonus. **

**If you guys got confused by how Harry managed to use his magic while making the Unbreakable with Snape, it wasn't that he brought his magic to the surface. He couldn't. It was Snape's magic that pulled it forward as the Vow demanded. Once it was back to the surface, Harry could manipulate it as he wanted until the Vow was done. **

**And I really have trouble writing out Voldemort's view, you know? I'm not a psychopath myself so I don't really know how they think or how Voldemort should be. I have a feeling I made him WAY too human. **

**Poor Draco. I love writing his sections. It's just hilarious. **

**Till next time :D**


	15. I Should Have Kept the Blindfold On

**I do not own anything that could potentially get me sued.**

**And thank you to all my reviewers! It's always so much fun to read and inspiring :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15:<strong>**I Should've Kept the Blindfold On **

"Is your wrist better?" Leila smiled down at Cole.

The younger boy flushed and mumbled, "It is better, thank you."

The Second Year, as she had learned, was fiercely loyal and devoted to the few who showed him kindness. He had promptly confessed his life problems to her upon their initial trek to the Hospital Wing and she quickly discovered that the faith and beliefs of a much younger student than herself were simple to please and push as she liked. Harry had been very similar when he had first arrived, but the fact that he was in the same year as her and placed him on far more equal grounds than the ones she stood with Cole. Cole was like a child clinging to his mother's skirts after he found that Leila would offer him sanctuary form his daily bullies.

She had begun to help Cole along, like she had Harry. She offered him private help, accompanied him to various locations during breaks, and spoke to him when they were in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Leila was pleased to note that Timothy had noticed her new friend and took a secret pleasure in flaunting Cole's presence beside her whenever she passed by.

Harry, of course, seemed to care less. He had always been more on Timothy's side of things and despite his encouraging words a few days ago, Leila quickly realized that Harry wasn't going to offer any more help than he already had. It irked her that the Slytherin squib was constantly by Timothy's side and she knew that he was a sort of anchor for her best friend now – even more so than before. It was a risk on her part to forfeit her place beside Timothy but she had a larger goal in mind. Timothy would understand once she showed them all that the unthinkable could be done. She would have to work quickly but, for now, she was pleased with her progress with Cole.

"Could you stay with me during lunch again?" the younger Ravenclaw asked shyly.

Leila nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Maybe a quick lesson afterward on some of the things you need help with afterwards?"

The boy's eyes lit up at the prospect and he happily gasped out, "Yes! I'd like that."

They made their way through the throng of students in the Great Hall and found themselves seats at the Ravenclaw table. Leila quickly glanced over towards the Gryffindor side and resisted a smug smile upon catching Timothy's gaze directly upon her and Cole. She knew he was irritated by how stiffly he held himself and how tense his lips were but her satisfaction quickly evaporated when Harry suddenly swept up and greeted the Gryffindor with that painfully cheerful disposition of his. Almost immediately, Timothy relaxed and his attention turned to the Slytherin.

Leila forced herself to look away and quickly turned to Cole with a sweet smile. "Has everything been working out for you lately? Are there any more wizards bothering you?"

The boy seemed uneasy to be on the topic when so many of said wizards were just a few feet down the table. "Erm…they…they're okay."

Which obviously meant that he was still being bullied. "You don't have to hide anything from me, Cole. Maybe I can help you."

Cole scrunched up his small face with indecision and hastily piled food on his plate in an effort to delay his reply but he eventually managed, "They're – uh – still pushing me. In the halls."

It was understandable, Leila had to remind herself, that the younger student was unwilling to share the information. She knew that people who were subject to such abuse were used to being alone and away from any help. If he went and asked for assistance, he would just be disbelieved or dismissed. He would be accusing a wizard and that just couldn't be allowed, could it? Because wizards were just so superior.

Leila's mouth tightened into a grim, determined line and that now-familiar anger at such blatant prejudice brought forth a bubbling well of resentment and hate. It was ugly. It made her ugly, she knew. But at the same time, it empowered and motivated her. And now, more than ever, she needed such a drive. There would be sacrifices, she had realized, in this process. She would be against beings who could summon anything from thin air. She would be against beings who could kill a person with just two words. She would be against beings who could alter the very fabric of the world if they so wished. It would be a harsh battle and she was determined to win it.

"It's okay," Leila said in understanding. "You don't have to tell me now. But please remember that I will always be here to listen and help."

~0~

Harry watched Timothy morosely poke at his breakfast and knew automatically that Leila was the cause. He had seen the Gryffindor openly staring like an idiot at her and that new Second Year Ravenclaw friend of hers. It was obvious that he was jealous. You had to be blind to miss the fact that Timothy fancied Leila but surely the guy knew better than to just stare and proclaim it to the world? So Harry had stepped in and distracted Timothy but it hadn't worked for long. It was just enough to take his eyes off the girl before he returned to his listless state.

It was almost frustrating, this new development. Harry had intended the two friends to argue and challenge each other with their new conflicting beliefs and Leila's constant dreams inducing her to act, but this overly emotional factor on both of their parts was confusing his plan at every corner now. It had been perfect initially because they were still in close quarters. But now it was clear that Leila planned to act alone and already recruiting her own "army" starting with Second Year Cole.

Harry couldn't be at two places at once. How was he supposed to keep track of both his experiments when they were always on opposite sides of the spectrum now? If he so much as left Timothy for a few minutes, the Gryffindor fell into a bout of some silly self-imposed guilt and depression. Even after that sickly sentimental moment they had at the lake had done little to ease the guy's confidence and now that Leila was apparently friends with somebody new, everything just took on a whole level of _difficult_. Sometimes, Harry wanted nothing more than to shake Timothy and punch it into him that Leila was just a girl.

Dealings back in Tom's domain had never been like this. Even if people felt emotions and feelings towards a certain cause or person, they never acted upon their impulses and thought everything out first before striking. Harry could control that; he could manipulate that. But this? This strange flighty reaction made purely upon emotion? These reactions Harry wasn't familiar with and it bothered him to no end. It had amusing to find himself an ally of sort in his Potions professor but that had been a small solace in the face of his larger problem.

In other words, Harry just didn't know what to do when it came to emotional problems. The way he normally dealt with such situations was not dealing with it. Emotions were often useless in the decision-making process. Plan, calculate, and then act. Never just "follow your heart". Tom had ingrained into him that such reactions were folly.

"Just look at your parents," Tom used to sneer. "They 'followed their heart' and where are they now? Forever gone and soon to be forgotten. Who else but you ever gives them a second thought now that they are mere flecks of ash in the wind?"

That often resulted in Harry furiously trying to attack his guardian with a conclusive failure and punishment quickly to follow. He had eventually grown out of reacting to Tom's comments about his parents though and he just allowed the words to soar over him. Those words had ceased to stab him with every syllable over the years and Harry sometimes found himself wondering whether he should kill Tom for desensitizing him to his parents or thank him.

"Timothy, you need to stop watching your food like a colony of gnomes will come bursting out," Harry said with a hint of worry in his voice. "Is it Leila again?"

The Gryffindor shuffled uncomfortably but he mumbled, "Maybe."

Harry sighed. "I saw you watching her. You need to stop this. It's not healthy."

Timothy shoved his spoon into his oatmeal and abruptly stood up. "I don't want to talk about it, Harry."

"Timothy – "

"See you in Physics, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but stare in baffled confusion at Timothy's retreating figure this time. Had he just been snubbed? Since when did Timothy, righteous Timothy, shove off the easily hurt and innocent Slytherin squib who had always come for help?

Harry groaned aloud and ran frustrated fingers through his hair, for once uncaring what the others around him thought.

~0~

Draco had no idea how long he had been standing in place. It hadn't been bad, really, once he got over the fact that he still had no idea who his captor was and that he was in nothing but boxers. He had no way of keeping track of how long he stood there. It felt like hours but for all he knew, it could have been minutes. It could have been worse; the torture hadn't even begun yet. But as time dragged on, Draco had begun to wonder if this wasn't a form of torture in itself.

Torture was something Draco had been familiar with since his childhood. Of course, he hadn't known it as torture then. It had always been called "punishment". Your father is just a bit stiff, his mother used to say. He just had a bit of punishment from the Dark Lord. The stiffness almost always came with dark, crimson stains that almost melded into the black robes his father always wore. Draco would always see it, fresh as the color of the roses in their garden. But he stopped questioning it after a while. It was just something that came with punishment.

His first real punishment came when he was twelve. It had been a sort of twisted honor to receive it from the Dark Lord himself. But it had also been the single worst experience in his short life and he quickly learned that when people said "punishment" they truly meant "torture".

So no, Draco was no stranger to pain and he had been learned how to keep his mouth shut in the unfortunate circumstance that he would be captured. But this was an odd way to go about it, leaving him here just to stand. There wasn't really any form of pain in it and it almost puzzled Draco.

But he quickly caught on. In some ways, leaving him here unhurt and wondering was worse. It just made him worry as time ticked on and on. He had nothing else to do but worry and curse at his bad luck. He had literally only begun his search and already he was stuck in a horrible predicament. Could he even escape? Would he escape?

Draco was finally relieved of his thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally approached again. He tensed in preparation for any oncoming pain. Surely they had now returned with some horrible contraption of sort or some terrible torture spell if they were magical. He waited in resigned silence only to let out a slight yelp as strong arms suddenly wrapped around his torso and hoisted him up onto a wide shoulder.

He immediately felt his cheeks heat up again. Nobody had ever touched his bare skin before. Only his mother and perhaps some hired nursemaids cared for him as a child but he had never made skin contact with anybody else otherwise. Even when shaking hands it was courtesy to have one's gloves on and going from that to suddenly being carried like a sack with nothing to cover himself with was an unsettling process.

"Stop shifting like some effeminate girl," growled a new voice. "I'm not enjoying this any more than you are."

Draco grit his teeth and snapped, "I am _not_ moving like a girl." When the person carrying him only scoffed, Draco pursed his lips but didn't retort. His previous reply had already been rather childish and it was something he knew his father would have been horrified to hear after so many years of training in rhetoric and public speaking.

As he was carried in relative silence afterward, Draco tried to listen and gauge his surroundings. He could hear the soft padding of his captor's shoes barely rustling over the floor below, meaning that whoever was carrying him was either too poor to buy actual boots, which normally made a distinct clicking in step or strangely favorable towards softer footwear. The arm keeping him in place over the shoulder was strong and well muscled but Draco noted that there was something strange about how lithe and thin the limb seemed to be in proportion to the strength it wielded. Occasionally, a tuft of hair tickled a bit of his neck, which meant that his captor wore his locks long. Long hair in the wizarding world meant a relatively high and wealthy status but surely whoever was carrying him was only being presumptuous. There was no conceivable way that some form of nobility in the Dark would capture him and hope to reap the benefits. If they truly knew who he was and did hold a high standing, than they should know better than to deter him.

Not more than a few minutes from his initial pick-up, Draco suddenly felt a strange bout of vertigo as he was abruptly flipped over the shoulder and back into a standing position. His bare feet stumbled slightly on the cold stone floor after he was roughly dropped and he instinctively raised his arms in an attempt to balance himself. While his arms were up, two other pairs of hands latched metal cuffs to his wrists and harshly destroyed whatever balance he had attained by pulling him down to his knees and locking what sounded like chains attached to his restraints to something on the floor. Draco struggled uselessly for a second against the cuffs but quickly ceased his actions as a sudden hush pervaded the area around him.

Draco hated this position, this kneeling from they had forced him into but he ignored his pride as he strained to hear even the slightest movement. He was slightly relieved to catch breaths behind him and surrounding his sides; his captors had decided to keep a watch on him this time and Draco couldn't help but think that this was better than standing alone.

He currently hadn't the faintest idea where they had locked him down, perhaps another cell of some sort, and it frustrated him that he still had the blindfold securely blocking his view. Draco hated this continuous display of weakness on his part and the deprivation of his sight was almost more degrading than his near nudity. His body he could bear with, but without his sight, he truly was lost to the world just as he was in a battle without his wand.

Draco instinctively tensed yet again as distinct footsteps (so boots this time) echoed from a location slightly above him and he realized with a jolt that the resounding sound of the room indicated that it was a large one. What was he doing being chained inside a large room?

A clear voice of a strangely high pitch spoke. "Wizard, you are here before the Assembly for your crime against our people."

What was this about a crime again? Had somebody Imperioed him while he had been sleeping? But Draco had been trained to resist that curse and, for the life of him, he still couldn't recall anything that could possibly warrant this degree of severity.

"What crime?" Draco demanded in an almost exasperated tone. "I haven't done anything! I have told you this already!"

There was an immediate tension in the air. The bodies surrounding Draco stiffened and suddenly, he could feel the oppressive presence of seemingly hundreds of eyes locked upon him. Apparently, they were in a large room for a reason; there was an audience, the Assembly the voice had said, watching all of this.

"You dare to deny your crime yet again when you are so clearly guilty?"

There was dangerous venom to the voice this time and Draco knew when it was time to backtrack. "I did not mean any offense," he managed to say through his teeth. "I only stated what I believed to be true. I do not know what I could have done to count as a crime amongst your people."

"You are a wizard," the voice said derisively. "You should know the laws of our people."

"I do not even know who I face!" Draco snapped, the stress of this seemingly impossible situation getting to him. "How can I possibly say anything of tangible value when I do not know who you are? I cannot know the laws of faces I cannot see through a blindfold!"

Silence. The oppressive feeling of being the focal point of attention still weighed upon Draco but he could decipher the fluttering of hope now blossoming in his chest. Silence was good in situations like this. It meant they were listening and considering.

"We do not unclothe the eyes of the guilty," the voice began. "You shall confess – "

Abrupt silence again. As if something had stopped the voice. Draco waited, his nerves on edge. Perhaps this pause was a good omen. Maybe the voice would reconsider…

"But, my Prince, are you sure – " This time, Draco could hear the very slight flickering of a side conversation and he attempted in vain to catch anything. The voice had mentioned a prince. Draco knew nobody who could possibly classify as a prince in the Dark Lord's domain in the wild lands he had been traversing but if this authority figure that the voice clearly abided to was willing to help, Draco wouldn't question it.

"Very well…if you wish…"

Draco gritted his teeth in annoyance. He didn't like this waiting, this deciding of his fate. He was having no say in it and that was terrifying on to itself.

The voice was now directed at him again, clearly doubtful. "You have been graced by the mercy of our Prince." To the guards, "Remove the wizard's blindfold."

A coarse hand harshly wound itself into Draco's hair and he couldn't help but grimace slightly as his head was held in place as swift fingers untied whatever knot had been keeping the blindfold in place. His eyelids fluttered in the sudden exposure to light and color and he felt the hand relinquish its hold to allow his head free rein once again.

It took Draco a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, he didn't know whether to suddenly burst out in hysterical laughter or stare in slack-jawed shock.

The hall he was chained in was beautiful. The architecture wreathed playful bells of flowers and vines of a seemingly stone forest throughout the pillars keeping the high roof secure. Gorgeously wrought glass windows painted the entire room a multitude of colors from the setting sun outside and depictions of various flora occupied the otherwise forgotten crevices. The room's layout was very much the same as that of the old Ministry of Magic's courtrooms with the sunken floor and elevated judgment seats. It was, overall, an impressive sight.

But it wasn't the room itself that caused Draco's astonishment; it was the inhabitants of the room that floored him into wishing he had kept the blindfold on.

Every single one of them were pixies.

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><p><strong>Mwahahahahaha...bet you saw that coming, didn't you? You can't just let Draco get off the hook for insulting a pixie. And if you're wondering why I made them seem larger than the tiny one I had portrayed before...well you're right. They are larger...which will be explained later :)<strong>

**And yeah...I did say that Harry would explain why he decided to reveal the Chamber so early to Snape in his thought processes this chapter but I guess it didn't happen yet :P**

**Oh, and from now on, I'm actually going to put my chapter names in bold at the top...just cuz I finally got over my one bout of laziness in that aspect haha...**

**Ummm...well I think it will be important to note that this will be my last update for a while. No, I'm not going to take YEARS before my next update but I'm kind of (okay I am totally) swamped by homework (on the third day of school!). And it's going to be really hectic from now until about November. Those of you who live in the Western US know what I'm talking about here. Cuz guess what's coming in October :l**

**But don't fret, I will continue this, don't doubt that! I've got too many ideas :) And who knows, if I find extra time somehow I might get enough done for another chapter earlier than expected!**

**Till next time!**


	16. To Strike a Deal with the Devil

**I do not own anything that will get me sued. **

**Thank you to all of my reviewers! It's great to hear from you guys.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: To Strike a Deal with the Devil<strong>

Draco knelt there, mute. This couldn't be possible. This was unheard of. His captors were _pixies_? There were so many things wrong with the situation that he didn't even know where to begin. Since when did pixies build grand architectural structures like this one? Since when did pixies stand taller than himself? Since when did pixies hold councils like _civilized_ beings? Draco had read that pixies were disorganized creatures, living the majority of their lives in mischievous endeavors. There was no mention of a formal central governing body or of an actual culture that thrived like this one.

That wasn't even what worried him. The pixies could have been as elegant as the most cultured nobleman for all he cared but they would forever remain lower than himself because they just were. They were, after all, only magical creatures. So long as they remained in their place, never overcoming greater beings like wizards, Draco would have comfortably disregarded their very existence. But now that he was at their mercy, he had a whole set of problems to face now.

Draco was no slacker when it came to magical proficiency. There were plenty of the Dark Lord's followers weaker than himself. The mere fact that the pixies had somehow captured him in his sleep and rendered him helpless was something to worry about. What would stop them from doing the same to the rest of the Dark cause should they suddenly be at odds?

"You have seen our faces," snarled the pixie standing upon the higher dais in front of Draco. "Now you cannot claim to be ignorant our laws."

Draco didn't reply, desperately searching for some sign of a trick, some illusion that had twisted his mind – but to no avail. There was no mistaking the distinct pointed ears, the childish facial structure, the slightly pointed teeth, and the narrow eyes. Draco couldn't explain why they were suddenly so large but he knew for a fact that these beings were pixies of some sort.

He could see now that he had been correct when he had assumed a larger crowd was overseeing the proceedings. It was almost like a normal judicial court (the ones that had existed before his Lord had taken over). Draco glanced about, still trying to get a grasp on his situation when one distinct feature common to all of the pixies caught his attention and halted his thought process cold.

_All _of them were wearing dresses.

Just like that single pixie who had promised to get him back.

The single thought was so absurd yet so horrifyingly clarifying he couldn't help but laugh aloud.

"What is this disrespect?" hissed the pixie on the dais. "Have wizards fallen so low as to chortle in the midst of their own judgment?"

"Oh, you've got me!" Draco laughed, suddenly far past the need for rationality. He had _not_ just been held in a cell standing like a fool, humiliated, for who knows how long and subjugated to a council of _pixies_ all because one miniscule pest decided to take offense. He was a wizard of noble birth, destined to help the Dark Lord rise above all and stand behind him – victorious. "You've got me, you little cretin!"

The overseeing pixie turned to the guards surrounding Draco and snarled, "Is the blasphemer mad? Have you broken him? I thought his Highness made it clear that the prisoner was to be kept sane!"

"N-no your Eminence," Draco heard the guard behind him hastily reply. "We only kept him standing. Nothing more!"

Draco laughed again. "Oh, you don't need to keep up the charade anymore. I know your game! I admit it; you caught me! You really did mean it when you said that I shouldn't insult you!" Draco tried to mimic a mocking bow but he only managed to lurch forward, chained as he was. "Congratulations! You got me! You, nothing more than a gnat, got me!"

"Silence him!" commanded the pixie upon the dais. "This is unfitting in the Judgment Hall! He is clearly mad. Take him away and throw him to the Exmoor at dawn."

Something about the way the guards and the audience shifted uncomfortably, as if the head pixie had mentioned something of forbidden nature, of danger, that made Draco stop his laughter.

"What is the Exmoor?" he asked. Nobody answered him. The guards only adopted a resigned look upon their faces and they reached down to release him from his bonds and carry him away.

"I asked you what the Exmoor was," Draco repeated, his voice slightly tremulous. "I asked you what it was!"

Again nobody answered him and Draco was tempted to shout this time. What could be so bad that the guards walked as if carrying somebody already sentenced to death?

Maybe that was exactly it. Maybe he _was_ sentenced to death.

No, he couldn't start panicking just because of that one possibility. He couldn't let that get to his head. But it did and against his better judgment, Draco began to breathe quickly, his breaths coming in shorter and shorter gasps as he was hauled to his cell. He would have time, he told himself. He was going to have to wait in his cell until dawn. But that could be minutes or hours away for all he knew in this isolated prison.

Abruptly, the guards carrying him stopped and Draco broke away from his thoughts to turn and look at what had caused such a halt.

"I'll take him from here," smiled a pixie who was slightly shorter and younger than the ones holding Draco captive. His eyes sparkled an odd amethyst and his hair was the shade of the moon on a cloudless night.

"But-"

"I'll be fine," the newcomer interrupted as if he had heard the incomplete protest a million times over. "Leave us."

The guards shifted uncomfortably but they obeyed (obeyed a pixie younger than themselves?) and a few moments later Draco found himself freely standing in front of his temporary liberator.

They stood facing each other for a long few minutes. The other was stock still with a smirk on his lips that itched at Draco like a thorn in his side. He knew what the pixie was trying to do and he wasn't going to fall for it. Draco Malfoy wasn't somebody to be baited.

"Not so high and mighty now, are we?"

Oh, screw it. "What do you know?" Draco snapped. "I didn't do a bloody thing and here I am being thrown to Merlin knows what Exmoor is just because your little pixie in charge back there thought I was out of my mind."

The pixie smirked even more. "I know you haven't done a thing."

"That's right! I haven't-" Draco cut off as the meaning of the sentence sank in and he stared incredulously. "Wait. What-"

"I'm injured," sneered the pixie. "Surely you would remember dear old me and my 'dress' from our first meeting?"

Draco stood motionless before exclaiming, "You. You're that bloody pixie-"

"Ah, ah, ah," the pixie waved a finger. "I wouldn't go about insulting me any more than you already have. After all, look at what I've gotten you into already. Surely you don't want it to get any _worse_ could you?"

Draco grit his teeth and ground his hands into fists. "You have no right to do this. You can't hold me captive like this. I'm a wizard!"

"And is that supposed to mean something to me? In my eyes, you're just a brat who thinks he's better than the rest but can't do a thing on his own without his pretty little magical piece of wood."

"Where is my wand?" Draco hissed, immediately latching on to the reference. "I demand it back."

"Don't have it."

"Lying bastard!"

The pixie rolled his eyes. "Really? After all I did to warn you not to insult me?"

"I _know_ you have it-"

"Do you really?" the pixie asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can swear upon my magic that I do not hold your wand in my possession whatsoever."

Draco faltered. A promise upon one's magic was irreversible and almost as binding as the Unbreakable Vow. He pursed his lips and tersely bit out, "Fine. But you must help me escape."

"Why? What do I get? What good does it do to let you go when you insulted me in the first place?"

"I'll owe you a debt-"

"Not good enough."

Draco had to keep the impulse to strangle the pixie before him in check. "Fine. What do you want in return?"

A triumphant smile overcame the pixie's face and he promptly replied, "I want to follow wherever you're going once you escape."

Draco blinked. "Wait. Did you just say you want to travel with me?"

"I'm fairly sure you're not deaf, wizard."

It couldn't have possibly been any worse. He couldn't have this magical creature trailing him as he continued his search for Harry. Who knew what the pixie could reveal with all of the information it would discover while traveling with him? The majority of the world didn't know Harry existed and of those who did, even fewer knew he was the Dark Lord's ward. If the pixie went and spread the word, Draco was fairly sure the Dark Lord would render him mere dust in the wind whether he brought back his ward or not.

"Anything else?"

The pixie narrowed his eyes. "No. That's all I will take."

"Well. I'm sure whatever this Exmoor is cannot be as horrifying as traveling with _you_." And Draco was willing to take that chance. He couldn't disappoint his Lord by succumbing to a mere pixie.

"The Exmoor will, undoubtedly, kill you without your wand."

"Then give me my wand!"

"My conditions still stand, wizard. Take it or leave it."

So it was death now at the hands of some unknown source or death later at the hands of his Master. And honestly, Draco already knew which one he would rather take.

He stuck out his hand with a grimace and said, "I am Draco Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa."

The pixie couldn't have looked any more dangerously exultant. "I'm glad we could come to a consensus, Malfoy. I am Rayne of the Celestal line, son of Titania and Oberon."

~0~

It was amazing what a little bit of kindness could do.

Leila marveled to herself silently as she watched Cole. What had been a nervous wreck a few weeks ago had turned into one of the most animated students of his year. She almost couldn't recognize him. His brown hair had once been limp, like a worn rat's, and he had always walked with a slight stoop, afraid to catch attention. Now he stood with the self-assured confidence of a victim now freed from his bullies and, Leila had to admit, he was considerably attractive now that he was out of his own personal hell. People _wanted_ to speak to him now. They wanted to get to know the new version of him.

And it was all thanks to Leila.

She smirked as another student joined the ever-growing group of Cole's acquaintances and contently turned back to her own schoolwork, scratching another line on to the piece of parchment in front of her. She wasn't concerned that Cole would deviate from her and prefer his new group. No, he was too loyal, too indebted to her to do that. In the end, he always came back to her and that was probably for the better. It had already been proven through her various attempts at convincing those around her that she could do this on her own. If Cole could do such a thing, then it would be all the easier for her to spread the idea of fighting back.

Leila noticed the small crowd shift through her peripheral vision as Cole excused himself and smiled as he walked towards her.

"Having fun?" she asked in good humor. "You've made so many more friends."

Cole flushed and smiled at her. "It's really nice of them to talk to me now."

Leila raised an eyebrow and asked coolly, "Prefer them over me?"

"Of course not!" he blurted. Then he flushed a brighter red, so different from the more confident boy who had just been speaking to the small group seconds ago. "I owe all of this to you, you know?"

Of course she knew. She just had to gently remind him that. Now that she had ceased to speak to Timothy at all, she took some pleasure in the Cole's company.

"It's not fair," she mused, placing down her quill and shifting in her seat to face the younger boy.

"What's not fair?"

"The people who bully you get away all of the time. And you're doing nothing wrong. Look how amazing you are when you aren't so harassed."

Cole flushed, if possible, even darker at the compliment. "Well – uh – I guess it really wasn't fair. I mean, they had magic and everything and I didn't."

Leila's eyes flashed in triumph. Finally, finally, after days and days of getting him to open up, she had finally gotten to the core of what she had been aiming for all along.

"Exactly!" she said excitedly. "That isn't fair at all! Don't you think we should have a fighting chance back? That we shouldn't be so submissive to them?"

Cole no looked slightly uneasy, but in an effort to please her he mumbled, "I guess."

She sensed his trepidation and backtracked. "Look, you don't think it's fair, right? Just because they have magic doesn't mean they have a right to treat Squibs like us like dirt. Don't you remember what it was like to be pushed down every day?"

His eyes darkened at the topic of his past bullying and he angrily replied, "Yeah, of course I remember." He suddenly faltered a bit and his eyes widened slightly in fear. "But we can't fight back, we just can't. We-"

His lips thinned into a small line and he clenched his fists. In a great display of self-control, he took a deep breath and slowly continued, "No. That's wrong. I can't keep thinking like that. You taught me not to think like that. I'm better than that. You're right, Leila. We should have a fighting chance back. But…I don't think we can. We're not ready for something like that. _I'm_ not ready for it yet." His eyes were sorrowful. "Can you understand, please? I'm really sorry about this, I didn't mean to say all of this to you when you've done so much…"

"Don't worry about it," Leila quickly replied. "I understand. I was just speculating. Don't get upset over this, Cole."

He smiled gratefully at her and settled into a seat beside her to begin his assignments. She watched him carefully and for a brief moment, she was stabbed with a pang of guilt. How could she be pulling Cole into her hopes like this? He was just a victim, somebody who had finally found a decent life to live with so many friends to choose from.

But if Leila was going to win this fight, she needed as many resources as she could get. And Cole was going to have to be one of them.

She'd convince him over time.

~0~

"**What the **_**fuck**_** is wrong with her?!**" Harry snarled. "**What in the name of Merlin's beard could have possibly made her come out such a **_**defect**_**?!**"

The Basilisk lazily opened an eye and flicked her tongue out in an almost entertained manner. **"A flaw in your plans?"**

"**It is hardly my fault there are so many things wrong with her! I handled women perfectly before all of this! I don't **_**understand**_**!"**

Harry flinched as the Basilisk smacked him rather harshly with her tail. **"Calm down. I doubt anything you are thinking right now in your fury is worth any merit. Calm down and then I shall speak to you."**

Harry flushed, feeling like an admonished child, but he wisely pursed his lips and fell on to the bed he had conjured weeks ago in Tom's old room within the Chamber. He groaned as the day's events came back to haunt him and he had to struggle to keep his magic from accidentally lashing out and bringing the whole place down upon his head.

"**Better?" **he sighed with his eyes closed.

"**Better."** Harry heard the rustle of Basilisk coils and felt a gentle, probing tongue flicker briefly on his cheek as if in comfort. **"Now speak to me, little one. What ails you so?"**

Harry grit his teeth and opened his eyes to stare at the stony ceiling, almost hoping to bore a hole with his glare. **"My plans are beginning to stray a little."**

"**Ah…I remember the larger portion of yourself, back when you were here years ago, also became rather irate when things did not go according to plan." **A soft chuckle made its way past the enormous snake's throat. **"And I shall give you the advice I gave your larger whole: patience is, whether you choose to believe it or not, actually a virtue. I understand the value of waiting in a hunt. Do you think the prey would be so kind as to always remain at a standstill for you?" **

"**I know that," **Harry ground out in frustration. **"I know that better than anybody alive. Do you think I would have survived this long if I hadn't already learned to keep myself in check? If I just went off spouting whatever came to mind, Tom would have destroyed me ages ago."**

"**Your larger counterpart would not be so senile as to destroy a part of himself."**

Harry rolled his eyes in mild amusement. **"I meant that figuratively. There are a lot of things worse than death."**

They were silent for a moment before Harry sighed again. **"I have been patient. I have waited and kept myself to myself. What can I do now that a piece of the equation is getting out of hand?"**

The Basilisk considered his question and Harry could almost feel her puzzlement and almost hesitance when she finally decided to speak. **"You do not know how to deal with this, little one? This piece of the equation is another human, is it not? You have told me that you are new to this land of Light. Does this straying form your plan scare you?"**

"**It doesn't!" **Harry snapped immediately, reflexively. **"I have dealt with human reactions my whole life. I have manipulated, toyed, and crushed such things. I know how to play this game."**

A moment later, Harry winced again as the Basilisk hit him over the head with her scaly head for the second time that night. **"Watch your mouth, little one. I have lived far longer and although I have rarely been outside these walls, I can assure you that I understand what I speak of. Do not take my questions nor my aid lightly. I do the things I do because I believe they will help you."**

Harry had to struggle not to flush like an embarrassed schoolboy. It had been quite a few months since anybody had lectured him so. The teachers at Hogwarts never spoke so bluntly and he had been away from Tom, the only person who really bothered to give him a scolding.

"**I am sorry," **he murmured. **"I…I suppose I am a little unsure about this."**

The Basilisk nodded her head in smug agreement. **"I can sense your unease from a mile away, little one."** She was silent for a time before adding, **"But outside of my other advice, I am afraid I can offer you no more. I would tell you to learn this Light and frivolous method of behaving in order to truly understand what has set your plans ajar but I rather like the way you are now."**

"**I do not necessarily have to become what I have learned. I will merely be adapting myself to the way they behave to accommodate my plans."**

"**But how long until you begin to forget yourself and the adapted becomes the adopted?"**

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><p><strong>Wooooowwww...it's been FOREVER since I've updated. But on the bright side, hopefully my load will be lighter from now on. <strong>

**Yes, I know, it's still a rather small chapter...you'd think I'd have more after so long gone but I honestly didn't get to write that often. **

**And the reference to A Midsummer Night's Dream with Titania and Oberon? Haha, it's not really that deep. I just thought the names fit well. *hint hint***

**Love Draco. He's so hopelessly clueless at times :)**

**Till next time!**


	17. An Inkling of an Actual Beginning

__**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: An Inkling of an Actual Beginning<strong>_  
><em>

_The little toddler, not much older than three years, hobbled around on its feet. It was far steadier than it had been when it had begun to walk about a year ago, but its sense of balance was still wanting. There were a lot of things to fix, actually. The locks of dark hair, while smooth and a beautiful shade of pitch black, were too wild and unruly. Many would die to have the unparalleled emerald eyes but the house elves had already begun to see the telltale signs of nearsightedness._

_There was also the issue of far too much smiling and giggling. Did all children find the smallest things hilarious? _

_Voldemort sighed, irritably turning back to the papers he had to complete. He couldn't waste time thinking about his Horcrux. The child might have been a piece of his soul, but, really, he didn't like to spend too much of his day around it. Children were not high on the list of things he found pleasing. For now, he would leave it to the elves to deal with it. _

_Suddenly, there was a small, insistent tug on the hem of his pants and he scowled before glancing back down at the child. It was wearing that same shirt again. The same green shirt with a snake embroidered into the sleeve. It was the shirt, the only gift, Voldemort had ever bothered to bestow upon the child – a passing whim. _

_Emerald eyes widened at the attention and then the toddler giggled before tentatively asking, "Bored. Can I play with me?"_

_The only thing Voldemort had minutely approved of when the child had begun to string words together into coherent sentences was the fact that it failed to decipher it was any different from him. The child understood that people were separate entities, of course. It could name the elves assigned to it and the occasional female caretaker Voldemort recruited before disposing of them every few months, but when it spoke of him or to him, the child always spoke as if Voldemort were itself. It truly believed that Voldemort and itself were one entity, one person. Technically, being a Horcrux, the child was just a part of the Dark Lord, but there was that possessive side to Voldemort that reveled in the child's mindset. He certainly had no intention of correcting it any time soon and he made it clear to the child's caretakers not to correct it as well. _

"_I am busy," he said with a patience he ever afforded himself. "I cannot afford the luxury of playing."_

_The child, already accustomed to hearing vocabulary far more advanced for its age, readily answered, "But…if I am bored, why don't I play with me?"_

"_Because I have too many things to accomplish." Even he had admit that it was beginning to become confusing referring to the child as if he were speaking to himself, which was, in essence, accurate but a little circular in mindset. _

"_But…" The child bit its lower lip. And its eyes lowered to the ground. It knew better than to cry when it didn't receive what it wanted. Voldemort had never tolerated such a spoiled habit to fester and had ensured the caretakers did not either. _

_It had been two weeks since it had last spent time with the Dark Lord, even if it was just being in the same room. Voldemort had simply found no patience to spend every moment of his life with the Horcrux when he had other matters to deal with, especially with the control of the English Muggles under his reign. Normally, Voldemort would have cared less what the child felt about the arrangement, but whenever he was in close proximity to his Horcrux, he couldn't help but feel the emotions it experienced leaking into his own mind. The child didn't have enough control of its magic yet to rein it all in and that was part of the reason Voldemort disliked being in its presence. He hated emotions. _

_Put simply, the child was lonely. For all of the house elves it had every day, it didn't seem to be enough. Not even the occasional Muggle child or caretaker its age that Voldemort dragged in to entertain it sufficed, especially when said companion disappeared after a few weeks. It was most likely due to the connection they shared through their souls, but the child was most comfortable and content when around Voldemort. But with the person it was most attached to gone most of the time, there was always a vague sense of sadness beneath the flurry of emotions the Horcrux exuded. _

_It was annoying and Voldemort wanted nothing more than to dump the child into the arms of another house elf and retire to a different room where their connection was weak enough to dull the thoughts he was receiving. _

_It was, in fact, exactly what he did a moment later._

_A clap of his hands, and a crack later a house elf was holding the child and gone to a separate section of the manor sanctioned for the boy with another crack._

_Voldemort sighed in slight relief as the emotions stilled. Peace and quiet at last. _

_~0~_

_Harry shoved himself out of the elf's arms as soon as they Apparated into his rooms. He wanted to get __away__, away from the thing that had taken him from himself again. Lord, they called his other self. Dark Lord, My Lord, My Liege, Master. There were many names he went by in his bigger form. But in this form, he was Harry. _

_And he hated it. _

_He wanted to be with himself. It had been so long. Every day, every hour, every minute was painful away from himself. When he was to his bigger self, he felt more complete – whole. Now away, he felt a lot like the 1000 piece puzzles that his many caretakers brought for him. Little toys like that got boring. They were fun at first, something to take his mind off, but they were too easy. _

_It hurt. Why didn't he like himself? Why was it that he always clapped for the elves when he wanted to be with himself so much? _

_Harry fisted his small hands into his shirt and his mouth curled into the smallest of frowns. He morosely sat his bottom on to the emerald rug beneath him and had to try very hard not to cry. He had told himself a long time ago that crying wasn't something he liked. So he didn't cry, because he didn't like it. _

_But sometimes, it was really hard not to._

_The need to cry became worse and Harry had to pull his legs to his chest and clung to his shirt all the more. His bigger self had given it to him, this shirt. And he loved it more than anything else he owned. More than the teddy bear, more than the mahogany dragon figurines, more than the little broom, more than the gold chess set. All because it was the only gift he had ever given himself. _

"_Little Master?" the elf (Hokey, if Harry remembered correctly) began. "It is your bedtime. Young Master can't be staying up too late. Master says so."_

_Harry hated it, hated the way Hokey spoke as if he wasn't Master. The elf had been with him for as long as he could remember, so why couldn't the caretaker understand that the Master and the Little Master were one person? He balked and curled into himself even more. "Don't wanna."_

"_It's late, Little Master. Hokey has to put Little Master to bed –" _

"_I said I don't wanna!" Harry whined. He knew if he, his bigger self, had been here, such a whine would have been inexcusable but he didn't care at the moment. It was unfair that he had been so separated from himself for so long and together for so little. "I wanna go back!"_

"_Little Master, you need to go to sleep. Master would not want Little Master to still be awake."_

_Harry tightened his grip. "Fine." He hastily got to his small feet and scurried towards his bed, a sanctuary for now, only to feel a grip hold him back by the collar of his shirt._

_Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the child halfway reaching to hoist himself up on to the bed and the elf's hand wrapped in green shirt. _

_Almost immediately the grip disappeared and Hokey was quickly gasping out, "Hokey's sorry, Little Master! I did not means to touches your clothes! I only wants to remind you – reminds you that you need to brush your teeths!" The grammar the house elf had learned was quickly deteriorating under stress. "Hokey's sorry! Hokey's sorry, Little Master! Hokey not means to –"_

"_You __touched__ my shirt!" Harry shrieked, his emerald eyes wild. _

"_Hokey not meaning to, Little Master! Mistake, Little Master!"_

"_You – you __touched__ it…!"_

"_Mistake! Hokey's beg your forgiveness, Little Master! Hokey's not meaning to - !"_

_Harry let out a snarl and scrambled to the edge of his bed, as far away from Hokey as possible. "You can't touch my shirt! It's __my__ shirt! I gave it to me!"_

"_Hokey knows, Little Master, Hokey knows! Hokey's sorry, sorry Little Master! Not meanings to! Mistake!"_

_It had become a well-known fact among Harry's many caretakers that touching the green shirt with the snake on the sleeve was taboo. The child was possessive of it, bordering on obsession. It was the child's crutch, his only link to his larger part when they were separated. It acted in place of the Dark Lord and even the elves had come to recognize that fact. Many had learned the hard way to avoid provoking the child and only dared to wash it on the rare occasions when the child was asleep and not clinging to it like a lifeline. Even then, they had to do it as quickly as possible lest he awaken and suddenly desire it. _

_The reactions were always violent should a caretaker accidentally even brush against it. But Harry had had a trying few weeks away from his larger part and at three years old, had come to desire the company more and more. _

"_Nobody touches my shirt!" he screamed. "It's my shirt. __Mine__!" _

_The elf stepped forward, his arms out pleadingly. "Please, Little Master! Hokey beings sorry!"_

"_No__!" Harry pushed himself into the bed's frame, as if he were trying to shrink even further away from the house elf. "Don't touch me! __Don't touch me__!" _

_The elf was desperate. "Please, Little Master. Please!"_

_Hokey was making his way closer and closer and Harry was beginning to go into hysterics. "No! No! You can't touch my shirt! I gave it to me! I gave it to me! Nobody touches it! It's mine! I need it! It's __mine__!" _

"_Please, Little Master! I promises you nots to touch your shirt again! Please calms downs, Little Master!"_

_But Harry was beyond reasoning now. "Nobody can take it away! It's mine!"_

_He desperately shrank further and further into himself, little more than a ball. Hokey was only an arm's length away now and Harry's eyes were dilated from his emotion. _

"_Get away!"_

"_Please, Little Master!"_

"_Get away from me__!" _

_The elf, in a last, desperate attempt, lunged forward. The Master would have surely felt the child's panic by now and the only way to ease the Master's fury would be to calm the situation down. _

_Harry's eyes widened in terror as Hokey pitched forward and he shrieked incoherently before instinctively flinging his small arms out in defense. His eyes burned in a flash of energy and a moment later, the house elf fell to the floor wailing in agony as emerald flames began to eat away at its frail body. _

_Harry watched, his eyes as large as saucers, as the elf he had known for so long, had even turned to for comfort sometimes, burned in front of him. His mind was trying to register what was happening, what __had__ happened. There was something wrong with the picture, but the only thing he could coherently register was fierce relief. _

"_Impressive," a voice Harry so loved to hear purred from the doorway. _

_The child automatically swung his head towards himself, his larger self, and he immediately looked away in shame, averting his eyes to stare at his trembling hands and trying to ignore Hokey's screams. He was hurting the elf, hurting what belonged to himself. He wouldn't be happy. He had told him a long time ago not to break the things he owned. _

"_Oh, don't look away, child," his larger self chuckled. "This is our power. This is our strength."_

_Harry was confused. "Our"? There was no "our", there was only "my" and "me" when it was the two of them. _

_The Dark Lord looked impassively at the elf's suffering for a few moments before waving his wand and extinguishing the flames. Hokey fell limp and unconscious the second his Master relieved him. _

_Harry glanced up but automatically looked away again. _

"_No…" the Dark Lord hissed. "No, look. Look at what you – I – have accomplished. This is power. This is not something to shy from, it is something to embrace and revel in. This is dominance."_

_Harry had to clutch his hands together to try and hide his tremors but he could hear his heart in his ears. His larger part was asking him to look up, telling him to. Who was he to go against his own wishes? Surely, if he told himself to look up, that this was okay – great even – then he had to look up. _

_Slowly, the child lifted his burning eyes to look at what he had wrought. _

_The fire had worked quickly. More than half of the elf's face was unrecognizable, burned so searingly that only sinew and muscle could be seen on the right side of its face. With no eyelid to cover one eye, the gigantic orb stared unseeingly at the ceiling and teeth normally covered by lips were bared into a morbid half grin. The right side of its body was in much a similar state and just looking at the creature, Harry knew that if Hokey survived, he would be forever be a cripple. _

_Overall, Harry had rendered the elf useless, for an elf that could not function properly was as good as trash. It was as good as dead for it would kill itself if the wounds did not. _

_A strong hand cupped Harry chin and lifted it. Emerald stared into crimson and, for a long time, Harry had trouble erasing the gruesome image of his long-time caretaker from his mind. Then, ever so slowly, something smoothed out his emotions, reassured him that everything was okay, that this was __right__. Elves were mere magical creatures. Harry was a wizard. He was allowed to do this. It was within his right if he wanted to. _

_When at last, Harry's stomach no longer rolled upon itself over and over again, his larger self released his face and wrapped powerful arms around Harry's small waist to hoist him up. _

"_I wouldn't want to sleep in the same room as this filth. I will ask the other elves to clean it up. Would I like to sleep in my bed with me – for tonight?" the Dark Lord asked in amusement, reverting back to the first person to humor his Horcrux._

_Harry stared, stunned. Then a small smile touched his lips and he quickly replied, "Yes, I would like that."_

~0~

There was something wrong with his students. Yes, as strange and cumbersome as they were already, Severus could tell that there was something even _stranger_ about them now.

Oh, on the surface they were the same as they had ever been. Spills, missed directions, inane questions, and the occasional explosion were in all in place. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were still trying to sabotage each other with the subterfuge of a clumsy elephant and, overall, there was still that lingering precariousness in the air that always followed Severus.

But there was something wrong, something that, for once, permeated both rival Houses alike. Was it fear? Was it confusion? Severus couldn't quite put his finger on it.

And, of course, it seemed like the only person unaffected by such an atmosphere was Evans.

Which meant that there was _definitely_ something wrong.

Severus cast a quick Tempus and barked for the class to finish their potions, bottle them, and bring them to his desk. All of them, even the Gryffindors, moved quickly and were out the door in a matter of minutes. Evans caught his eye as he exited and there was a curl of a smirk on the boy's face that sent Severus's warning signals blaring.

What was wrong?

Severus tried to push it out of his mind. He had tried to meddle last time something unsettled him and look where that had landed him. Now he had another addition to the Mark he so hated. He shook his head in exasperation and strode towards his office, waving his wand once to levitate the students' potions after him. He absentmindedly placed the bottles into their appropriate shelf for later grading before settling into a chair and giving a rather large pile of essays a glare.

It wasn't easy walking around the entire school _knowing_ that there was essentially a pseudo-Death Eater on the loose but incapable of saying anything due to the addition on his arm. He had tried to show it, of course, to catch attention when his mouth could not, but even then he could only roll his sleeves up about an inch close to the Mark before some unseen force stopped him from continuing. It frustrated him to no end trying to find some flaw in the arrangement.

It unnerved him how completely harmless Evans looked on a regular basis. The boy was quiet, respectful, and introvertedly intelligent. The Muggle teachers said he was keen and sweet in his non-magical classes. What was keeping the boy from behaving as he truly was? What insane plot could be forming in that mind?

Severus's hand flew to his wand as an abrupt flare of magic touched the air but relaxed when he saw that it was only his fireplace glowing green with the headmaster's head seemingly floating among the flames.

"I trust you are well, Severus?" the old wizard inquired. "I would offer you a lemon drop but I doubt you would enjoy one made of flames."

Sometimes, Severus couldn't blame Evans for being on the other side. "Of course, Headmaster. What is it you require of me?"

"My boy, is it too much to assume that I would be calling just to check upon your good health?"

It was very difficult not to roll his eyes, but Severus clenched his jaw and merely grit out, "Headmaster, you are a busy man. I highly doubt you would have the luxury of calling upon all of your employees to 'check upon their health'."

Dumbledore did not pursue the subject and instead began to articulate his true purpose for calling when Severus did not respond to his initial pleasantries. "How is Mr. Evans?"

As blunt as any Gryffindor could be. Severus had to resist flinching at the mention of his most problematic student. He so wanted to blurt out the truth but his tongue betrayed him. "He is attentive but relatively quiet – unobtrusive."

"Is that all?" Dumbledore seemed to be searching for something.

Again, Severus poke words he did not intend to. "He has the highest grades in his class but he does not flaunt it. I would hardly say modesty is his motivation but, being a Squib, he most likely wishes to avoid the attention."

The Headmaster was silent for a moment, his lips pursed in thoughtful repose. There was a sharp glint in his eye that indicated there was more to this than he was letting on. "How does he seem outside of class?"

"You know just as well as I, Headmaster. I do not associate with my students unless academically relevant." What was suddenly bringing on this slew of questions? Dumbledore might have asked him to keep an eye on the boy a time back but still, the child had done little in the public eye to actually attract the man's attention. Then again, the Light master had a knack for knowing the unknowable. "May I ask why the sudden interest in a Squib student?"

"It is good to be concerned about our non-magical population as well, Severus," the Headmaster admonished with a cheerful smile. "Especially one that has finally taken up the chance at magical classes."

Severus crossed his arms. "I apologize for my…inquiries, but is that truly it?"

Dumbledore hesitated for the slightest moment before shrugging and chuckling. "It seems there have been complaints."

"About what?"

"Our magical students woke up this morning to find every single one of their bathrooms flooded and the mirrors painted with the rune Eihwaz."

"Defense?" Severus translated. "Surely just another prank of some sort. It is a symbol all students who study Ancient Runes can recognize."

"I would not have put much emphasis into it," Dumbledore replied. "But there was something that seemed distinctly…unusual."

When the Headmaster did not make to say anymore, Severus has to restrain a sigh and ask, "What, exactly, seemed unusual if I may ask?"

"My boy, no need to be so impatient," laughed the Light wizard. His smile dimmed somewhat as his chuckles settled and that same glint came back into his eyes. "But what I found strange about this particular prank is that none of the Squib bathrooms were subjugated to the same treatment."

Severus was silent. It was almost a given that whenever a prank ensued, the Squibs were attacked first and foremost. It was a sad fact that they were often the butt of such teasing. So when a prank of this magnitude occurred to the magical students and not the Squib students, there was something to be suspicious about. The act itself was relatively harmless, nothing a good wave of a wand couldn't fix. After all, Moaning Myrtle flooded her bathroom consistently. But the rune was a strange addition and the designated targets.

"You're suggesting that the Squibs did it," Severus said with a little surprise because it was one. Never in all of the time non-magical students were allowed at Hogwarts did something go in better favor for the Squibs. They took the disadvantages with a grain of salt. None of them seemed particularly unhappy.

"Now, now Severus, let us not go jumping to conclusions. We must seek all perspectives in this."

"Headmaster, I highly doubt that with your suspicions, there would be any other candidates. Who else would do such a thing? Would the magical students demolish their own bathrooms? Would the _teachers_ demolish them for the amusement?"

Dumbledore was silent again, this time without a slight upturn of his mouth. "I just wish for you to keep your ears open, Severus. If it was indeed the non-magical students, there would most likely be only one of them who would know what the runes signify."

Severus didn't need to be told who that one person was. It almost always boiled down to one particular fifth year Slytherin.

~0~

Harry would have honestly preferred a less ostentatious first attack but the mere fact that the resurgence was finally happening placed him in high spirits.

So Leila had really taken the initiative. He never would have thought her to make the first move. She was meant to be the catalyst for Timothy, not the other way around. Strange, but it only served his purpose more so.

Even Harry had to admit the way she went about it was rather clever. She had been taking the time and effort to garner that boy Cole's undying loyalty and she had won it. How had she known he would have turned out quite the charming character was perhaps luck more than anything else but she had struck goblin's gold. That boy lured in followers like honey did flies. And apparently, his charisma was more than enough to start the movement Leila could not. She was only attached to this attack through him and Harry realized that if the students were ever caught, she could place all of the blame on the poor Third Year and nobody would be the wiser.

Harry had not seen Timothy all day. He had not been present during breakfast but there was little reason to worry. His little project was most likely busy cleaning the bathrooms at the magical students' demand. Almost all of the other Squibs were forced to do so as well.

Harry had been close to conducting the same degrading task but much to his surprise, Astoria had stepped in and cleaned the entire place with a wave of her wand. She had done it with only one justification: "I owe the Squib for Potions."

He would have time to ponder that mystery later. Right now, Harry was far too intrigued by his project's progress.

"Harry!"

A smirk touched the Slytherin's lips. There was Timothy. He smoothed out his face and turned with a crease of worry marring his brow. "Timothy! There you are! I was worried; you weren't there at breakfast."

"I know," panted the Gryffindor. He had obviously been running for quite a distance. "I'm sorry about that. I just finished cleaning up," his voice hitched, "the…bathrooms."

Harry could literally taste opportunity. "It was strange, wasn't it?" They walked side-by-side for a bit before he continued, "Wh – who do you think did it?"

Timothy bit his lower lip and he opened his mouth to speak only to close it and open it several more times in an attempt to voice himself. Finally, he stopped trying entirely.

Well, Harry wasn't going to settle for that. "It was Leila…wasn't it?"

They rounded the corner into an empty hallway before Timothy exploded, "It _was_!" His voice was anguished – torn in his disbelief. "I know it was! There was no proof, of course. She's too smart for that. But – but I would have thought she never – never would have done _this!_ Can't you just see how wrong all of this is? She's taking it far too outright. People are going to get _caught_ and hurt, Harry! You should have seen how livid the magical students were. Morgana, if McGonagall hadn't walked in when she did…"

The resounding echoes of victory swelled in Harry's chest. "Timothy, you don't think all of this is…wrong?"

Timothy spluttered in confusion as his mouth blurted the first thing that came to his mind with such a question. "No. It's not wrong." Immediately, he flinched at the reply and he hastily looked away. "N-not that I think we should be attacking the magical students like this – I mean –"

Harry stopped walking and crossed his arms. "Timothy. I know you. If you really thought this was wrong, morally wrong, you would have said so from the start. You're just honest like that." Harry grinned. "So? _Do_ you think what Leila's doing is right or not?"

"I – no – I…" A look of defeat crossed Timothy's face before he sighed and leaned against the adjacent wall. "What I'm going to say next might be…crazy. I know that. But will you just listen to me, Harry? Can you do that?"

"Of course." And the Slytherin smiled warmly for good measure.

Timothy took a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he plunged. "I've been having dreams. For weeks now. I know it's crazy. I _know_ it is. But I just can't help it. It started out slowly, just this feeling of – of victory. And it grew on me. I know you of all people must know what it's like to always have been looked down upon. Growing up in the Dark territory…" Timothy shuddered, "It must have been difficult. So you _must_ feel this need, this desire, to stand up and finally win against the people who put you down and think you beneath them. I didn't feel that way before the dreams started, Harry. I really didn't. I was grateful for the wizards' protection and their consideration for allowing us to study here but after so long it just…"

Timothy didn't continue. He didn't need to. Harry had more than enough to work with now. "I understand," he murmured softly. "I know how you feel, Timothy."

"You – you do? You don't think I'm crazy?"

Harry shook his head with a wry grin on his face. "No, I know exactly what you mean. We shouldn't be treated like this. We're human too. We're not animals just because we can't practice magic."

Timothy let out a great sigh of relief and he shakily smiled. "Wow…that….that really makes me feel like I'm not insane."

"I understand," Harry repeated grimly, "but Leila understood too."

For all of his Gryffindor dull mental capacity, Timothy readily caught on and paled. "That's why she's doing this."

"Did you think she was doing this for nothing?"

"No! Of course not. She has a reason for everything. But I just didn't think she _hated_ enough for this. I didn't think she'd actually do all of this at the risk of other people like us! That's just selfish – and wrong!"

Incorrect. Leila wasn't doing this because she hated the wizards like Timothy clearly did. She had a far worse reason for doing this. The poor Gryffindor just had a tendency to project his beliefs on to others. Well, if that's what the boy wanted to believe than Harry wasn't going to deter him.

They were silent for a moment before Harry quietly asked, "So…what now? What are we going to do about this? The magical students aren't just going to let this slide."

Months ago Timothy wouldn't have had an answer. Months ago, he probably would have turned his back and done nothing about it. But this wasn't the same Timothy that had been here for five years. This was a different Squib, one that Harry himself had taken the time to mold.

And indeed, the Gryffindor moved like the puppet he was.

"We fight back." Timothy's eyes were hard and unflinching. "We fight because that's the only way we are going to survive now. We fight, but we don't fight like Leila. We will be facing two sides in this war, Harry, and I have every intention of winning."

~0~

Draco couldn't believe that he had even bothered to trust that thrice blasted pixie. How could he have honestly believed that good-for-nothing creature had any dignity to keep its word? At least he had a name to spit upon now: Rayne. What honest mother would name her child _Rayne_? It was stupid, dumb, and about a hundred other words Draco couldn't quite conjure in his ire. He was right back in his cell with _another_ blindfold pulled over his eyes because the second the pixie had uttered its name, it had captured him in a body lock and promptly delivered him back to his imprisonment.

Filthy pixie.

Draco was surprised to hear his prison door opening after so short a time. Perhaps dawn hadn't been as far away as he had thought? He couldn't know, not with this bloody blindfold on.

A hand roughly grabbed his hair and hauled him out into the hallway. He could hear two more escorts shifting into place behind him while the offending hand had shifted into a tight grip on his neck.

"Walk," a voice gruffly ground out.

Draco obeyed, hoping to find an opening. Maybe if he was docile enough they would drop their guard and he could make a run for it. But where? Where could he run? He had no idea where he was, let alone how to navigate the place. And even if he did try to make a move, surely the hand encircling his neck would choke him before he moved so much as an inch.

They led him past several turns and up quite a few stairs; the escorts were clearly headed farther and farther upwards. It made sense if Draco's prison had been below ground. But just as the trek began to become far too long for his liking, a blast of clean, fresh air hit him as they stepped out into the world again.

Draco hadn't recognized how stale it was down in his prison. Now that he was in open air again, he couldn't help but breathe deeply and feel the slightest tendrils of heat tickle his face as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

"Take it in, wizard," the pixie holding his neck spat. "These will be your last breaths."

Well, that clearly dampened the mood. Draco was suddenly furious and fearful, both at the same time. If that pixie had wanted to travel so badly, why was he allowing Draco to die?

"Ah, you have brought him," said that voice of the pixie who had dealt out this sentence. "Good, it just in time. We have not given anything to the Exmoor in quite a while." Draco still had not idea what the Exmoor was. Was it a monster? Some hideous creature he would die by? It was probably one of the most humiliating ways to go.

The pixie holding him captive gave his neck a reprieve before heavy shackles abruptly clanked around his wrists and his ankles, effectively weighing him down. Why would they need to weigh him down unless…?

Unless. And suddenly Draco knew exactly how he was going to die.

Normally, he didn't have any particular feeling towards water. He could swim, of course, and it was sometimes pleasant to lounge in when he was younger and had the time. But it was useful for little else besides hydrating his body. Never before had he ever been _afraid_ or it, that was for sure.

Until now. By the gods, the Exmoor was a bloody lake.

Draco had no idea how closely he had been to the edge before the pixie behind him shoved him forward. Merlin, he panicked, they were going to _drown_ him. He was going to die with water clogging his lungs, rendering him unable to breathe and his corpse forever lost to the scavengers below. Nobody would ever see or find him.

He would have screamed had his mind acted faster, but by the time the thought occurred to him, he had already been taken in by the cold wetness around him. His attempted shout only allowed precious air to escape in bubbles around his mouth. If he had his wand, this would have been a simple matter to escape, but now that he was alone and helpless, Draco didn't have a chance. He struggled against his bonds, trying to pull himself up and back to the air.

But those shackles weighed him down and, with horror, he realized that they had added an extra weight to the chains holding his feet together. He could feel the tendrils of underwater plants brushing his face as he was dragged further and further into the darkness. Draco closed his eyes and tried to find some way to break himself free, but it was all useless. Any of his attempts only left him weaker and more desperate.

Time was running out. His lungs were already beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen and the steadily increasing pressure made everything press against him, restraining him further. Draco was fairly sure that if he opened his eyes now, he wouldn't be able to see anything even if he wanted to.

He didn't want to die like this! Never would he have imagined his first, grand mission from the Dark Lord would have ended like this! Draco wanted to _live_, to _breathe_ again. He didn't want his soul to depart here, in this dark, dank abyss. The thought terrified him and he involuntarily opened his mouth only to end up swallowing water. There was nowhere to cough it back up and his lungs were no longer just burning, they were being filled to the brim, nothing but filthy lake water choking him and making his vision spotted.

Just as Draco resigned himself to his death, to the fact that he would never see his parents again or breathe anything more than liquid, a strong grip latched on to his shoulder and a tingle of magic curled down his spine to lift the weights off his hands and feet. Draco blindly scrabbled for a purchase against his savior, his need to secure his pride long gone.

Because, really, who else could this be but the very pixie who had gotten him into this mess in the first place?

* * *

><p><strong>Wow...okay...I really have no excuse for being so late. Agh...I'm such a slowpoke. Because really, I just couldn't only write about a paragraph or two per day before my creativity bubble burst itself. And I really didn't want to post something crappy...but still, not an excuse I suppose. Did I mention I get distracted easily when my creativity is on "low"? Yea...you can pretty much thank How to Train Your Dragon for part of the delay. It's just...Toothless and Hiccup are TOO CUTE. Why I never thought to watch it before is beyond me. And I love the soundtrack. So if you really want to punch me right now I can't exactly blame you.<strong>

**Okay, Harry being obsessed with Voldemort and a freaking shirt in the flashback scene might have seemed extreme, confusing, creepy, and completely out of character. I know. But I really just wanted to make it obvious how twisted growing up with Voldemort could be. I can make it as cute and cuddly and fluffy as I want but I will never forget that growing up with a Dark Lord isn't exactly the recipe for sanity. Harry was, what, three? Children are VERY easily influenced. He was a Horcrux, a Horcrux that had been exposed to its larger portion for lengths of time (despite Voldemort's efforts not to linger). That, I figured, probably triggered some sort of growth and recognition because, as children, they rely more on their base instincts. And with half his base instincts being that of a crazy piece of broken off soul, it's pretty much guaranteed that he's going to a BIT attached to his "larger self". **

**So early on, Harry honestly thinks of himself as Voldemort and doesn't exactly see what's wrong with killing off an elf like that because nobody has ever told him that it WAS wrong. Voldemort's actually going off and telling him it's GREAT so that's where the moral compass starts getting off course. And at this point, Harry hasn't been told Voldemort killed his parents yet. So: unwavering loyalty to himself (ahem, Voldemort). I'm really sorry if the dialogue and thought processes were exceedingly confusing with the whole "addressing himself as if he were both himself and Voldemort". I actually contemplated taking it out but I wanted to see what you guys thought of it. Let me know? Please? :D**

**I feel like the plot's moving sort of slow but after my first attempt at speeding myself up in terms of the plot line...well we all saw how that ship sank. **

**Hokey was an actual elf. If I remember correctly, he was the elf of that lady who owned Hufflepuff's Cup before Tom killed her off to have the cup for his Horcrux. Hepzibah I think her name was? I guess he killed her off too in this AU cuz, well, why else would Hokey be away from her? **

**Oh Draco. I promise he isn't as lame as he looks so far. He's still a stuck up little priss but when he has his wand and he's not self-absorbed, he's actually pretty legit. Considering he's grown up with Voldemort in the shadows and with his won private tutors and whatnot, I thought it'd be reasonable to make him more powerful and badass than he was in the movies and books. Darker too obviously. **

**Till next time! (Unless you guys decide to spear me for my late updates.)**


	18. Eihwaz and Isa

**I do not own anything that will get me sued. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18: Eihwaz and Isa<strong>

They broke the surface of the lake spluttering and in a tangle of limbs.

Draco choked on the water still in his lungs and continued to cling to Raine as the pixie guided them to land. He was still blind from his near drowning and more than a little irritated at his savior. Draco wanted nothing more than to give the magical creature a beating but in his waterlogged state, there wasn't much he could do.

When his fingers touched firm land, he automatically shoved Raine away from himself and fell gasping and heaving, still trying to get the water from his system. Draco realized that he must look a pitiful sight: drenched, bare save for his boxers, and coughing like a diseased invalid. And he hated it – hated the pixie for it.

"Well, that's certainly a way to thank somebody who saved you from lying with the fish," sniped Raine from the side. "Just shove me away, why don't you."

Draco threw the pixie a filthy look. "Who," he coughed, "do you think got me there in the first place?"

A smirk touched Raine's lips and he shrugged, looking exactly the mischievous part his species was known for. "True, but I think I have compensated to it now, have I not?"

"Like hell you have! What about my wand? Without my wand I – " Draco cut off, his cheeks flushing at the admission of weakness he had almost blurted out in his anger.

"Relax," Raine rolled his eyes. "I have your silly little stick."

Draco whirled around, his eyes wide. "You…you have my wand? But I thought you swore you didn't!"

"I did. I swore that I wasn't in possession of it and I don't have possession of it." That smirk was back on the pixie's face. "My pocket does."

Draco honestly didn't know what to say to that. It was so ridiculous a distinction, so ridiculous a trick that he was speechless. What oath on this planet could ever be validated by the fact that his _pocket_ was currently holding it? Draco didn't know that such a blatant twisting of the truth could be possible.

The pixie merely pursed his lips and reached into some hidden compartment within his clothes. When he withdrew his hand, Draco's wand was delicately held between two fingers. Raine startled a bit when Draco immediately held out his hand palm up and the wand shot back into its master's possession.

"That's a neat trick, I suppose," the pixie muttered.

Draco glowered. "It's not a 'trick'. It's magic. And as incompetent as you think I am, even I can summon my own wand."

Raine seemed pensive and on the verge of speaking again but apparently thought the better of it and kept silent as Draco proceeded to transfigure several nearby rocks into clothes. The young wizard was acutely aware of Raine's gaze and he turned around once dressed to cross his arms in an irritated stance.

"I had a white rock with me as well when I was very rudely kidnapped. Where it is now?"

There was that annoying glint of mischief in Raine's eyes again. "What are you willing to offer in return?"

Draco had to try very hard not to whip out his wand and hex the pixie into oblivion. "Nothing. It was mine to begin with and you had no right to take it from me."

"Promise me that I can still be able to travel with you, away from here, and I will give it back."

Draco groaned. "I do not need extra baggage. Give me my stone and then we may part ways."

"You have already sworn on your magic to allow me to accompany you. You cannot go back on your word – not unless you wish to be bereft of your magic. I only ask of your continued promise to allow me to travel with you for an indefinite amount of time."

Pixies certainly knew how to word things to get what they wanted. No matter how Draco looked at the situation, he was already stuck with the creature. He needed that stone back because that Sara girl might contact him at any time and he couldn't afford information regarding Harry reach anybody but himself. Should anybody discover who Harry truly was and reach him before Draco did, his master would have his head.

"Fine," Draco spat. The tingle of magic affirmed his agreement. "Now give me the stone."

A satisfied and almost relieved smile lit up the pixie's face once again and he quickly handed over the object. Draco neatly placed it back in his pocket with a whispered Sticking Charm for good measure. Who knew when Raine might take it again? The creature had never promised to leave it alone and after everything he had gone through, he was less than likely to give the pixie the benefit of the doubt.

Draco glanced around once he finished and furrowed his brow. "You wouldn't have managed to get any of my other belongings, did you? My tent? My papers?"

"Nope," Raine without remorse. "Too much to take. If I took it all the others would have gotten suspicious and I wouldn't have been able to save you."

Well, that was a major setback. Without his supplies he had no way of knowing where he was or where he had mapped out potential places Harry could have been. Now he was essentially back at ground zero and it put him in anything but a good mood.

Raine seemed to pick up on Draco's mounting frustration and he had enough wisdom to say, "I'm not completely magic-less, you know. I can provide us shelter and I can easily tell you where we are anywhere anytime."

"Right. Perhaps telling me where we are _now_ would be a good start," Draco snarled.

"There isn't exactly a name for these woods, but there is a convenient town nearby. I believe the humans call it Hogsmeade."

~0~

The winter bite was still in the air as February bloomed, Harry noticed. He could feel the chill even underneath his blankets and within the insulating drapes. Yet, despite it, he felt oddly at peace. For the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, he just lie there with his eyes closed, listening to his slow breathing and to the stillness. He had been tied up in so many plans the last few months that he just felt that a moment like this was necessary. He couldn't continuously go headlong into everything. He needed to stop and relax – even if it was only for a few moments before starting his day.

But, alas, it was not to be.

The door to his room slammed open as one of the Slytherins hastily yelled, "Get up! The rooms are flooding!"

Harry jumped out of his bed and quickly pulled on a robe over his sleepwear. He fingered a rune etched into one of his bedposts on his way out and closed the door behind him. There was subsequent chaos as he dashed into the Common Room and he was inevitably swept away by the onward rush of panicked students.

He was out the door and deposited in the hallway as water began to slowly rise higher and higher in the rooms despite the open entryway and merely watched as the entire Slytherin house emerged drenched and miserable in all their unprepared morning glory. He was tempted to laugh but he knew better than to do that.

When all of them were finally out, Professor Snape came in a flurry of black robes, a thunderous cloud etched into his brow. It was clear the man was not a morning person.

"What happened?" he barked to the nearest Slytherin.

The boy, a Second Year, visibly jumped in his sopping clothes but his voice was steady. "Sir, I was not there myself but apparently everybody had gotten up as they normally do only to find that any faucet or showerhead couldn't stop their downpour. The rooms are flooded, sir!"

The Potions Master only scowled and strode to open the entryway as the entire Slytherin House watched, eager to return and prepare for the day and dry off. The professor impatiently spoke the password "ivory", only to find that it didn't open. He frowned and repeated the word. Still no movement. Normally, the heavy wooden doors opened themselves at the password but this time, they did not. Snape's expression darkened even further and he reached out to push the door and enter himself but a surprised look lingered slightly on his face when it still would not budge.

"Would any of you care to explain how the rooms are locked?" the professor snarled.

"We don't know, sir," Tracy Davis, a Prefect, hastily replied. "It was open only moments ago when the last of us filed out."

If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have thought the professor the very devil himself with the irritation and anger that swept across the man's face. "Very well. I am afraid all of you are going to have to spend the day drying yourselves off. I shall send a message to your professors that you are excused from your classes today due to your obvious lack of material."

There were mixed reactions. An essential day off was a godsend for many, but Slytherins were prideful and Harry was almost positive more than half of them would have traded for a decent appearance any day. How humiliating would it be to emerge into the Great Hall dripping and ungroomed?

Not that it would matter. The Slytherins would not be alone in their misery.

"Harry!" whispered a voice. One glance around the corner revealed Timothy, anxiously waiting in his own dripping Gryffindor uniform.

Harry quietly cast a glance to ensure nobody was watching him and slowly shifted away from the crowd before slipping down the hall and joining Timothy. "Hey."

"How'd it go?" Of course. Ever jumping immediately to the topic.

"Not bad," Harry smiled. "The runes worked."

A look of relief touched the Gryffindor's face. "It's a good thing you're taking magical classes, Harry. How else could we have known to use runes? I don't understand any of it but it worked. I checked with the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. They're dripping too."

"Nobody got caught?"

"Thankfully, nobody." A look of doubt flashed across his face. "But…do you think we will be?"

Harry grinned reassuringly. "Of course not! We aren't supposed to know about runes, remember?"

"Won't they suspect you? You are the only one studying magic out of all of us."

"They won't," Harry dismissed. "I'm not even taking Ancient Runes. I just searched the magical library, that's all." It was a good cover. Anybody could access the magical library but Squibs hardly bothered, even those who might after this incident. No Squib would know enough to understand the texts. There was something about magic that required practice and experience to truly comprehend.

"Well, if you say so," Timothy mumbled, tugging at his robes to squeeze out some water. "This was relatively harmless anyway. Even if we do get caught, we won't be punished that badly." His eyes darkened. "It's only when we make these things a little more daring that it will get delicate."

The boy was learning. At least he had the foresight to start small.

"I wonder, though, what kept the teachers from getting back into the dorms," Timothy mused. "Your House got locked out as well?"

It was difficult not to smirk. Harry had included that nice little touch when showing them the runes to copy on to their own House walls. The Squibs didn't know any better. After all, all they did was memorize what Harry showed them and scribbled it on to any spare space of wall with a Hippogriff quill. It was hilarious to watch the professors fret about. Their runes would not last as long as Harry's would because he held magic underneath but it would do until lunchtime.

"H-how do you think Leila will take this?"

For Merlin's sake, Timothy was still thinking about her. "She will know you did something. But she won't speak about it. After all, I'm pretty sure she knows we know who instigated the first incident."

Timothy was silent for a while as they strode down the hall. He seemed to struggle with himself before calming and asking, "What was the symbol you made us draw after the runes, anyway? I know we had to quickly memorize what you showed us yesterday before Flitwick came by and nearly saw us, but now I have to ask: what does it mean? Did it do anything like the main runes did?"

"Leila has made her symbol Eihwaz," Harry explained. "It means Defense. I just thought it suitable that we take Isa."

"Isa?"

"Challenge, Timothy. We are going to be her challenge and frustration, aren't we?"

~0~

By the time the professors had finally opened the rooms, the majority of the afternoon had involved a great many Drying Charms from the magical students and a great many towels from the Squibs. Harry, of course, had known what was coming had and the knowledge beforehand to inscribe the shielding rune he had passed his hand over before leaving in the morning. It protected his room, specifically, from the effects of the magic that doused the rest and he had the entire afternoon to himself, feigning to be cleaning like the rest of the Squibs.

It was a pleasant afternoon, the first he hadn't been hard pressed to constantly watch Timothy. The Gryffindor was cleaning with the rest of the Squibs in his House while Harry was effectively left alone to presumably deal with his own mess by Muggle means. He had quickly completed his assignments and browsed through several Restricted books he had taken out of curiosity before glancing at the time and striding out to meet with his appointment.

Harry's route took him past the Great Hall, up four flights of stairs, through the Charms classrooms, into the Western Tower, and ended at the Owlery. Two other students were already there, stroking their own birds. Harry patiently signaled down a school owl to pamper and busy himself with before one of the two students left and he was left alone with just another in the room, their backs to each other as if disinterested in what the other was doing.

"You are helping Timothy," said Cole. It wasn't a question.

Harry smirked as he stroked the barn owl in front of him. "Perhaps."

"I know you are. Who else out of us Squibs could possibly know enough of runes to flood all of the House rooms?"

Harry's owl hooted irritably and he took the time to soothe it before replying. "I never said I would not offer my knowledge to others when we made our deal."

"But you're helping _Timothy_," the younger Ravenclaw hissed. "He is clearly now an inconvenience for me."

"Don't be so presumptive. I did not help you before because I thought your cause and your beliefs worth following. By helping you I did not make a pledge to you…or Leila."

Cole must have been too tense, his owl angrily flying away and back on to its perch. The boy stood there, unmoving, before finally turning around. Harry gave the barn owl one last stroke before motioning away the bird and facing Cole back.

"Fine," the Squib said levelly. "I will accept that. Just as long as Leila never finds out about this. Or anybody else for that matter, not even Timothy. Why you favor him I have no idea."

"My reasons are my own," Harry dismissed. "Very well. None shall find out about this so long as _you_ do the same."

Something must have warned Cole, an animal instinct humanity had still managed to retain after so many centuries warning him that this was dangerous – that this deal would be dangerous. But Leila wanted this battle, this war. And they would have no chance without the magic of the runes that still worked for those bereft of magic.

Cole shivered slightly and nodded, "Agreed." They shook on it and the air seemed thicker somehow, as if the pact had been made real and unmovable.

A full-blown smile had decided to adorn Harry's face and almost immediately Cole had to question the wisdom of what he had done.

"So what would you like to know now, Cole? You managed to plagiarize the bathrooms unnoticed last time. What do you and your lovely mistress have in mind next?"

* * *

><p><strong>Well...still way too much time in between my chapters :( Sorry about that. School calls!<strong>

**It has seemed like Draco was a side story this entire time. But trust me, I'm sure you're starting to see why I introduced him in the first place :) As to why he's not in smithereens like other loyal Dark wizards (because he IS one)...well, that you need to wait for.**

**And no, no Voldemort this chapter. I do love their interactions though and maybe next chapter? Depends on how the story flows for me I guess.**

**Finally, things are starting to get moving at Hogwarts though and for that, I'm excited for! It's pretty mellow now with their seemingly simple pranks but I assure you it will not stay that way.**

**The names really are runic scripture. Hermione mentioned Eihwaz when she came out of an end of the year test in one of the books, saying something about how she messed that up Eihwaz with Ehwaz. It does mean defense (and a bunch of other things that are similar) while Isa does mean challenge and frustration. It's Elder Futhark runic alphabet and it reminds me quite a bit of How to Train Your Dragon's writing :)**

**Till next time! **


	19. An Anonymously Helpful (?) Fire

**I do not own anything that will get me sued.**

**Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed. It makes me smile like an idiot to hear feedback :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19: An Anonymously Helpful (?) Fire<strong>

Harry's lips twitched with amusement. It was hilarious, after all, to see the Slytherin House in such an uproar.

"Yesterday, my notes just _disappeared_! I had a Diversion Charm on them! _A Diversion Charm!"_

"My broom! What has happened to my broom!"

"Why are my robes a _fucking red_? I am no Gryffindor!"

"Have you seen my Kneazle? I haven't seen him in days!"

"I was just walking down the stairs and suddenly, it shifted right when I was about to step on to the next floor! That was no coincidence. I swear it wasn't!"

It was chaos – at least in Slytherin terms. Harry had no doubt this Common Room was far more composed than the other Houses but for the house of the cunning and the manipulative, this sort of distress was unheard of.

"Silence!"

Everybody fell into a hush. There was a hierarchy among them and everybody knew to listen when the Head Boy demanded it. Missing notes or mysterious stairs be damned, Terence Higgs was one of the few at the top and protocol demanded respect.

"Are we nothing more than common mutts to be speaking like this? I stand here to watch my House squabble and whine about the smallest things. Are we not Slytherins? We are not Hufflepuffs scared by these events, we are not Gryffindors who will stomp about angrily, and we are not even Ravenclaws who analyze the situation but do nothing about it. We are the House of the Snakes and as small as the rest think of us, we will not allow this to stand!"

There were no cheers or cries of agreement of course. That was too brash and common.

Terence eyed them all. "Well? Rather than moaning, who has done all of this? One at a time!"

"Gryffindors," one girl spat automatically.

"Plausible had their own dorm not been attacked as well," Terence replied. "They would not think so far ahead as to attack their own House for the sake of anonymity."

"Ravenclaws!"

Terence gave that particular student a glare. "The Ravens are intelligent enough to pull this off, but none of them are _stupid_. Why bother with this stunt when they could be studying?" He gave a huff. "And do not go about saying Hufflepuff. I will kick anybody who dares out of this room right now if they did. We are not so low as to fall to a _Puff_."

There was silence as the dreadful question lingered in the air. "Then…one of us?" one of the naïve First Years finally asked.

Terence's answer was immediate. "Never. We protect our own. No matter what. Get out, you insolent brat. How dare you ask that of your own?"

Higgs had done that on purpose. He had wanted the question out and out of the way before it could linger and fester in their minds. He had goaded them towards that question for a purpose and for that Harry applauded him. It was just a pity, then, that the First Year had fallen so hopelessly for it.

One of the older students now cautiously said, "If it is none of us…then is it the Squibs?"

The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an answer. For once, Terence seemed uncertain. Oh, there was a look of acknowledgement and a spark that he had considered this possibility himself. But the very idea seemed so absurd, so ridiculous that even he could not answer the question.

Harry smirked to himself and gently ran his fingers over a small, cared rune stitched into the inside of his sleeves.

Suddenly, a thin spark of flame came to life in the midst of the room, hovering above the students' heads. Everybody flinched at the unexpected magic and several fingered their wands but nobody moved.

The spark seemed hover in place for a moment before it suddenly started moving, forming words in the fluttering visage of fire.

All of you know.

There was silence.

Do not delude yourselves. All of you know – you just fear to speak it.

Several students opened their mouths as if to say something but thought the better of it.

Then you are all cowards. Self-preserving, but cowards nonetheless.

"Aguamenti!" Terence snarled – only to see that it did nothing to the fire.

You fear the truth and try to erase me. What you do not realize is that I am one of _you_. Look around. Somewhere in this room, I lurk and offer you advice: do not run from the truth for running will only destroy you. Things will not stay so innocent as pranks.

When still nobody moved, the fire seemed to shoot out sparks in its irritation, like a live creature.

Must I spell it out for you, fools? You have correctly deducted that it is not the Gryffindors, nor the Hufflepuffs nor the Ravenclaws. You said so yourself none of you would ever do this. Unless you suspect the teachers of being immature enough to ruin your day, who else could have possibly done this?

"Stop this," Terence spat. "Who is doing this? Stop immediately!" He was clearly unnerved. It was the blatant truth that most likely bothered him just as it did the rest of the Slytherins who glanced about, looking for the person who could be doing this. The fire itself had claimed to be one of them. And since this was magic none of them had ever been taught, most looked to the smartest and cleverest of the bunch.

Now you turn to each other. You could almost hear the fire's derision. Suspect each other, and you shall all crumble, for what do we Slytherins have but each other? All mutual enemies in an unspoken pact of alliance in order to protect ourselves from the rest – the ones who don't understand.

Terence snarled. "Who are you?"

That is irrelevant. I only come to help my House. Speak the truth, then – and only then – will you be able to counterattack. The flames disappeared with those parting words to linger a moment longer before dissipating into smoke.

Terence winced and grit his teeth. "Squibs," he bit out as if it pained him. "It's the Squibs."

~0~

"I look like a fool!"

Draco scowled. "Well unless you want to walk into the middle of a town looking like a sparkly pixie and scaring the people to death while attracting unneeded attention, then be my guest."

"But…I'm not wearing my formal robes! I'm wearing these – these –"

"Pants?" Draco supplied dryly. "Yes, Raine. Those are pants. And I must say, they actually make you look less like a girl than your previous dress did."

"Those were robes of the finest caliber –"

"Spare me the theatrics," Draco sneered. "You've already been enough of a headache. Just be glad you have hair long enough to cover your ears. Your eyes are suspicious enough but with your ears, I would have had to summon a hat to cover them."

The pixie sulked but didn't comment. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and trudged closer to Hogsmeade, as Raine had called it. They had spent a good few days back in the woods near the lake for Draco to recuperate and assimilate or adjust all of his plans accordingly.

Needless to say, when the pixie had told him they were in Scotland, he nearly had a conniption fit. How long had he been out while those creatures had dragged him nearly a whole country away from London?

The two of them approached the well-lit town just as the darkness was settling in. Some might have considered such a decision a dangerous one but neither of them was particularly about their safety; they could protect themselves well enough. They had chosen this time specifically to mask any suspicious airs they might be giving off. Draco was a master manipulator, capable of appearing teary eyed on moment to vindictive bastard the next. But even he slipped up sometimes and he had no doubt the pixie did as well despite the natural trickster genes. The darkness would hopefully mask any odd gait or twitch of the face should they encounter anybody.

The second Draco stepped into the town, he was hit by an overdose of cloying cheerfulness. It was snowy and freezing as it was apt to be during the chills of February, but for some reason, the town seemed unnaturally warm and cozy. Like a spell was being used…

"Oh, that's interesting. I had never gotten close enough to notice, but it looks like we've stumbled upon your kind," Raine cheerfully grinned.

"What?"

"The people here are wizards and witches like yourself. Can you not recognize it?"

Draco's face paled in horror and he immediately set about to explore the place. He was shocked to see almost at every turn somebody with a wand out, casting spells left and right as if the Dark Lord's decree mattered naught. How was this possible? Surely his master would have discovered this treachery!

"Their magic tastes different," Raine mused, easily slipping into step with Draco. "But hardly something for you to panic over. Are you not the same species?"

"Different…taste?"

"Yes. Your magic tastes bitter – like a dark chocolate you could say. But theirs is fluffy." Raine licked his lips, tasting the air. "And a little like cheerful whipped cream or colorful ice cream."

Cheerful. No Dark wizard could ever produce something that could seem _cheerful._ Then what was this? This couldn't be Light magic could it? If that were true, then…

Draco immediately turned into the nearest store, a rather raggedy pub that went by "_The Boar's Head"_. What an uncouth name. The place seemed to match its name, a rather dusty and gruesome in its relative darkness on the inside.

He slid into one of the bar seats, Raine sliding into one beside him.

"What can I get you?" The man who had asked looked aged, his beard rather bristly and seemingly unkempt. There was an aged look about him.

"Two lemonades."

The old bartender quirked a white eyebrow at Raine. "You came here for lemonade, son?"

The pixie grinned. "I have heard that it's fantastic and I have never tried it myself."

Draco wanted to moan. If they weren't caught and discovered by the end of the day, it would be a miracle of miracles.

The old man didn't comment, but shrugged and shuffled away to complete the order. When the two rather spotted glasses filled with the sweet drink was placed in front of the two, Draco swirled the contents before asking, "Have you seen anybody come by lately?"

"Nobody new," the man shrugged. "Things don't really chance much on this side, not since the barrier came down."

A rock sunk into Draco's stomach like lead. "Of course…being here must be quite a relief for so many people."

"A lot of people think living here in the Light is better."

Merlin. What had this goddamn pixie gotten him into now? "Nobody new though? I thought perhaps a traveler or two…"

"Nah, just you two actually. But I suppose a strange fella came by my friend's place the other day – a Squib."

Immediately, Draco was disenchanted. A Squib? Of what interest could a Squib be?

"Did you see him by any chance?" Draco glanced over in surprise at Raine. He hadn't expected the pixie to join in the interrogation.

"The Squib? Oh, yes. Poor boy had come by Ollivanders, probably looking for a wand. But I helped him off."

"Helped him?" Raine asked with just the right amount of detached interest in his voice.

"Boy's at Hogwarts now," the bartender said. "Probably the best place for a Squib in the United Kingdom right now."

Raine sipped at his lemonade for a bit, allowing a lull before continuing. "What did he look like?"

"Why do you ask?"

Raine grinned and placed his finished drink back on the counter. "Just curious. Surely you understand that with so little changing on this side of the barrier, it's just nice to hear new news."

The bartender eyed the pixie critically before slowly saying, "Boy had black hair – a crow's nest in my opinion. Had the strangest emerald eyes too."

"Did he come with a strange name to match his hair and eyes?" Raine teased.

The man shrugged. "I think I've given you enough boy. It's not good to snoop." Raine brushed off the rebuff as easily as if shooing away dust on his sleeve, looking for the entire world nonchalant and unmoved by the lack of information.

"Thank you for the lemonade. It was absolutely refreshing," the pixie smiled and Draco followed him out the door and back into the snow."

They walked side by side for a moment down the main road, Draco shivering unconsciously from the amount of pure _happiness _in the air. He wasn't used to it, this warmth.

"So did we find what you were looking for?" Raine finally muttered.

Draco snapped the pixie a glance. "I never said I was looking for something."

"And I'm supposed to believe you're traveling just for the sake of traveling. Forgive me if I don't believe that after hearing you complain about how arduous your life is every five minutes of the day."

Draco flushed and relented. "The description seemed to match…"

"Want to go check out this Hogwarts then?"

Draco gave Raine a look. "And what else would you have me do? Commit suicide? For goodness sakes, Raine, you –" he dropped his voice into a barely decipherable whisper. "–you know that I am Dark. Don't pretend you don't after your whole spiel on how I _tasted_. This is the _Light_ side of the barrier. Light, for Merlin's sake! How am I even still alive? How am I even able to use my magic here? Everybody I've known who has tried failed."

Raine was silent. Then, carefully, he said, "I have a good instinct for those types of things. Information, I mean. But this target of yours, if you truly wished to find him, you cannot discount that man's description."

Draco knew what Raine was doing, diverting the subject away to Harry but for now, he was too strained to pursue it. "How on earth am I supposed to enter the home of the _Light Lord_?"

A flash of surprise flitted across Raine's face. "The Light Lord? My, that is a problem."

"No shit," Draco snarled. Merlin, had his mother been here all of the recent profanities he had been indulging in would have made her faint by now. "Which is why this is just a hopeless cause –"

"Let's try it."

Draco gave the pixie a scandalized look. "I certainly hope you're prepared to die then."

"For goodness sake!" Raine snapped. "You wizards! I swear you are all as stubborn and stupid as mules."

"It's ridiculous! I've already told you –"

"And I don't care. Maybe, if this target of yours if so important, you should actually – oh, I don't know – take a risk!"

Draco fell silent and took a deep breath. What the pixie was saying made complete sense and was complete madness all in one sentence. Why the pixie had deemed it his duty to help and spur Draco on was a mystery but he wasn't going to question an advantage when he had one – as annoying as it was.

Well, when in doubt, think about how the Dark Lord would react should Draco decide not to go.

Draco sighed. "You are going to be the death of me."

~0~

_Harry fingered the pages of the book, idly staring without seeing at the words in front of him. He couldn't concentrate right now, not when Tom was so restless. _

"_What's the matter?" Harry finally asked. _

_The Dark Lord didn't reply. He continued to write on his piece of parchment with his quill making the occasional scratch in the air. _

"_Tom? I can't finish my lesson today if you don't calm down."_

_The man continued to write but replied, "Just study, Harry. Surely you have mastered Occlumency by now? Or are you as incompetent as you look?"_

"_If you were referring to my old glasses," Harry snapped. "They are long gone thanks to your insistence. You even said so yourself how much more 'suitable' I look now."_

_Tom seemed to give up on whatever he had been working on, placing the quill down to turn in his chair to give his Horcrux a glare. "Do not be difficult. It is quite the opposite here, really. I cannot concentrate because you are feeling restless, not I."_

_Harry closed the book. "This is circular reasoning." And it was. More often than not, both of them could not tell which emotion came from which person. Their cores were so tied after years together that one's irritation was the other's irritation and one's happiness was the other's happiness. Harry had gotten better at blocking it out over the last year but they still had a long way to go. _

"_It is," the Dark Lord conceded. "Then if that is the case, I suppose neither of us can be productive tonight."_

_Harry grunted and placed the book on an adjacent table. "The meeting earlier tonight..."_

"_It was nothing new," Tom dismissed. _

_They were silent for a moment as Harry gathered his courage. "Well…perhaps I was just wondering…"_

"_A dangerous pastime." There was now an impatient warning in the Dark Lord's voice._

_Harry knew he shouldn't push but he couldn't help it. "I was just wondering why you do it."_

_Tom was still, no doubt becoming increasingly tired of his ward's growing curiosity – Harry's "rebellious period" as Nagini had mockingly deemed it. Harry had never asked so many questions before, even after…that._

"_Do what? I thought I taught you to be more articulate than that." _

_Harry gritted his teeth. He had gotten this far without being hexed. Maybe if he continued it would actually work. "I was wondering why your followers are devoted to you when – when you torture them. Why they look at you like you're some god when in reality you're just an extremely powerful wizard. Why you pursue this route when the world was perfectly fine before. Why you just do everything the way you do."_

_Tom's voice was dangerously low. "__**Those are treacherous thoughts,**__**Harry**__."_

_Harry's hands clenched into fists. He had no idea why he was becoming so bothered by this now. He had lived for eleven years under this man now. Why had it never occurred to ask before? He understood the torturing and the killing – he got those. This was war and it couldn't be avoided. But as to why Tom had even begun the war in the first place, Harry didn't know. And if that very beginning was false…then wasn't everything Tom was doing false, a lie, a façade? _

_Tom seemed to become disinterested during Harry's pondering and he turned back around to his desk. "This is a waste of time. You belong to me and that is all that should matter. You need not question what I do."_

_Something within Harry snapped. He didn't know why, but the last few weeks and months had been filled with his questions, his doubts. It was bothering him to no end and he wouldn't take that answer. _

"_I have __every__ right to question what you do!" Harry spat. This wasn't like him. He knew how to control his emotions better by now. "You don't think – you don't think after what you never told me –"_

"_Is it that again?" Tom asked nonchalantly as if he were addressing a naïve child. "I thought you had consolidated yourself with insignificant details like that already. Seven years and you are still childishly attached to people you never knew?"_

_It was true. Harry had no recollection of them. They were mere ghosts that could have been – dead just like the other life he could have led. "It is __not__ that! Just for once in your miserable life, could you just be __honest__ with me for once? How can I live like this, questioning everything you do, everything you say, everything you choose –" Harry broke off with a strangled moan and immediately clutched as his scar burned with unrepentant fire. _

"_**Have you forgotten who you are speaking to?" **__Tom hissed, his eyes now a bright red. __**"Have you forgotten who your master is?"**_

_Harry let out a gargled scream as the pain increased and he involuntarily crumpled to the floor as he twitched in an attempt to lessen it. _

"_**You want to know the answers to your questions? How presumptuous of you. You cannot demand answers from **__**me**__**."**_

_Harry couldn't see through the tears that had begun to cloud his vision but he could feel Tom moving closer. When the Dark Lord placed a cold finger upon his scar, Harry couldn't help the sob that escaped his throat – half agony, half pleasure. _

_It was always worse when Tom was in contact with him during his punishments. They were two parts of the same soul and the parts rejoiced in the skin connection, the closest the souls would ever get. That bliss did not affect Tom, but Harry could feel that joy and it was so horribly contradicting. The irony of it all was that the Dark Lord only afforded his Horcrux this pleasure during his torture because he knew – __knew__ – that torture was all the worse when there was gratification in it._

_Slowly, that finger dragged itself into Harry's hair ever so slowly, torturing the younger wizard the entire time. When it reached his scalp, the hand clutched fiercely at the hair and pulled until Harry was semi-kneeling and looking up at Tom. _

"_**You are my ward. I have raised you. I have made you who you are. In every essence of the word, I **__**am**__** your god, my Horcrux. For you would not exist as you are without me. Perhaps you could have had another life with your filthy parents but would you be the same? Would you be the Harry you are now?"**_

_Tom pulled away and as he did, so did the pain. Harry collapsed to the floor, still sobbing from the remnants of the torture. He was actually in a much better state than he had been once upon a time. Before, he would be incomprehensible, gibbering to agree and please Tom to just make it all stop. But now he could grit his teeth and sit through it even if it was humiliating in every sense of the word. _

_And the pathetic thing was, sometimes Harry didn't mind when Tom did what he did. Because it was true: who else would he have been if Tom hadn't gone and fucked up his life? _

_Harry Potter, figurehead of the Light and Golden Boy? The Boy-Who-Lived? Harry laughed as Tom turned away, back to his work as if nothing had happened. _

_As if. He'd rather die by Bellatrix's giggling hand than end up like that._

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><p><strong><em><em>Hey guys! Looks like I actually got something done in less than three weeks! *three cheers***

**Okay happy party over (because now...I have to actually do my essay for school. In one night. Joy.).**

**Anyway, well, not much to say for this chapter I suppose. Just that yes, Draco, you are finally getting closer and thank Merlin you picked up that pixie because you never would have decided to check out Hogwarts otherwise ;) **

**And the magical students are finally getting it together! (At least in Slytherin House.) Harry was never exclusively on the Squib side, remember. He just wanted something interesting to happen and I guess he figured his Housemates needed some good common sense in there - if writing fire makes any sense at all. But that's besides the point. It's just Harry's way of anonymously getting to the Slytherins. Oh and Harry is still not technically using magic. They're just runes. They work for anybody with latent magic. **

**And keep in mind that Voldemort never actually answered Harry's questions. It's important. I almost named the chapter "The Unanswered Questions"!**

**Till next time :)**

**PS for those of you who want Voldemort to "save" Harry soon...I'm sorry to say that it's going to be a long time coming. Take comfort in the memories for now...? **


	20. A Mischievous Map

**I do not own anything that will get me sued.**

**And thanks to all my reviewers again! **

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><p>Timothy nibbled a fingernail, his hands twirling the quill in his hands. The design had seemed simple enough when Harry had shown it to him but when he had found out that the harder runes like this one required a specific <em>way<em> of writing them, the task had suddenly become that much more difficult. How was he supposed to remember that right at _that curve_ at that _exact moment_ he had to put _just the right amount of pressure_ for it to fully function once activated?

"No, no," Harry corrected for the umpteenth time. "You nearly had it this time, Timothy, but your final pentagram is a little too close to the border and containing portion."

Timothy groaned. "Merlin. How on earth did you ever learn this stuff on your own?"

Harry grinned sympathetically. "I actually studied the basics first, Timothy. It took just as long if not longer for me to get the foundation down. But once I did, the more difficult runes were easier to create and make functional."

"But it's only been a few months since you've been here!"

Harry shrugged. "And you've been writing these runes for only a little more than a week. You don't even have the basics so it's understandable."

Sometimes Timothy honestly believed that there was more to the Slytherin than met the eye. Of course, there was the slight humor and the supportiveness that one never would have expected from the House of the Cunning as well as a great personality once past the shy exterior but as time went on, Timothy couldn't help but think there was something about Harry that went deeper. He never questioned it though. He had learned long ago the best way to pull Harry's personality out was not to pull at all, but to wait.

"Well, I have to thank you for doing all of this," Timothy smiled. "Without you, we wouldn't even have a snowball's chance in Hell of standing our ground."

"You just have to keep careful. We don't want any of us to get caught," Harry murmured back. "Speaking of which, couldn't you find a better place to discuss your plans with the rest? An empty classroom might be alright the first or second time but you are bound to be caught sooner or later."

Timothy frowned. What Harry said was true, especially considering they were at a magical school where a simple room could be easily tracked.

And it was even more crucial now that there was a clear divide between Leila's group and his.

A good half of the population followed Cole, Leila's "little raven" as Harry called him. Cole delegated the group and commanded them, but Timothy knew that it was all Leila behind the scenes. Their group worked with an efficiency and cold, cut accuracy that unnerved him at times. They never got caught despite the fact that they had lashed out at the magical students a good more times than Timothy's group did and they managed to do things Timothy thought impossible without magic or runes. But that impossible because none of them had access to the magical library and none of them had the knowledge Harry did. Harry was on his side so they didn't have him as a resource.

Timothy learned the runes from Harry and he had insisted that the Slytherin take the credit and teach the rest of his group for their "attacks" but the quieter boy had politely declined and insisted that Timothy do the teaching for the sake of a stronger leadership front. So now he was the presumed rune creator and for that, he was held in even higher regard than before. Runes were the greatest for of magic for Squibs and if it hadn't been for Harry, Timothy would have never known utilizing runes without magic was possible.

But to teach a mass group, they had to have mass meetings, which were great dangers in themselves. Timothy had conducted the last few in randomly abandoned classrooms, but Harry was right when he said they would be caught.

"Do you know of a place?" Timothy asked. "Maybe some place the magical students would never think to check for us?"

Harry smiled crookedly. "I'm not so sure, Timothy, but I will keep an eye out. And if I'm lucky, maybe we'll have a new meeting place for the next attack."

~0~

"Interesting," Harry mused, a perpetually amused expression on his face. "Timothy asked me for the same exact rune this morning."

Cole glanced up sharply and tried not to allow the Slytherin's continuously condescending amusement irritate him any more than it already did. "He asked for the same rune?"

"Well, maybe not rune per se. But he asked for something that would function the same way, hence the same rune."

Cole pursed his lips.

"And no," Harry grinned. "I will not tell you why he asked for it. That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Sometimes, it seemed like the older boy could read minds. Cole sighed, knowing not to push, and absently traced the rune Harry had composed on the parchment. "The rune incorporates Perthro and Nauthiz."

The Slytherin nodded approvingly. "It does." He paused and motioned with a hand. "Go ahead. Write it down."

The Ravenclaw took quill in hand and quickly drew a copy of the rune Harry had created. He paused, almost handing it over for Harry to check and critique before shaking his head at a mistake and quickly redrawing another.

Harry took the newer copy and scanned it quickly. When he was finished he placed the parchment down with a pleased expression. "Thank Mordred for good things. You are certainly more talented at this than Timothy is. The poor sod took the entire morning to get it right and even then, his slight curve inaccuracies render his less potent than yours will be."

Cole didn't question Harry's comment nor did he glow with pride like the first time the Slytherin had complimented him. It was part of Harry's nature to say side comments like that and he did not appreciate "pathetic happiness at a scant few words of marginal positivity". He also saw that despite being on Timothy's side of things, Harry found quite a few things to jeer at on both sides of the Squib divide. It was clear his tutor did not particularly like either Timothy or Leila. Cole bristled whenever Harry said a word against Leila but he kept his mouth shut. At times, he was just glad Harry did not insult him like he often did the other two. Cole had come to realize that the older student was quite the opposite of the image he normally presented in the public halls of Hogwarts.

It would have been perfect blackmail if Harry didn't have the capability of telling Leila where Cole was truly learning his runes. She would be completely furious if she ever found out her second in command was taking advice and lessons from the enemy. She harbored a strong hatred for Harry in particular – sometimes even stronger than the hatred she held for the magical students – but Cole could never quite understand why.

That, and the Slytherin completely terrified him at times. Who knew what sort of runes he could let loose on somebody who betrayed him?

"You find my personality curious," Harry said suddenly.

Cole winced when he realized that he had been thinking for too long. "How do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know what I'm thinking?"

The Slytherin smirked. "Once again: for me to know and for you to find out. Perhaps someday I will tell you. You are certainly more reasonable company than most I've been surrounded by for the past few months."

Cole didn't ask for any more than that. He only kept silent and focused on the rune basics Harry proceeded to show him for the rest of the time they had left.

~0~

Ambrosius Flume had seen many a strange few customers during his time as owner of Honeydukes. More so during the time before the barrier had come up, but he had learned to take money and ask questions later – if at all. He lived for his candy shop, sweets, and wife. There was no point in getting muddled up in something he didn't need to be muddled in.

So when a rather strange elfish-looking boy with amethyst eyes came wandering in with his eyes closed and his fingers groping at the walls like a blind man, he didn't question it. When a boy with the palest blond hair he had ever seen came following in afterward with a dark scowl, he didn't do so much as glance over. They should have been at Hogwarts, Ambrosius knew. All of the children inside the barrier did. But, again, he just continued on to cater to the other customers currently in his shop.

"By Morgana, Merlin, and Mordred," Draco hissed. "Am I supposed to believe you know a secret way inside Hogwarts by _listening to the earth_ of all things?"

Raine scowled and raised a finger to his lips once before turning back to listen with his eyes closed. Draco grumbled to himself but kept silent. After all, if the pixie was somehow telling the truth, than getting into Hogwarts would be a lot easier for the both of them – more chance of survival.

They came to a stop just above a small section towards the less visited area of the shop where some of the sweets were still untouched for the day. Draco raised an eyebrow but his skepticism was quickly extinguished as Raine bent down to pull up a plank.

Draco struggled not to gape. "You're kidding me."

"Ladies first," grinned the pixie.

"I'm not going into who-knows-where! What do you think is down there?"

"A tunnel," Raine deadpanned. "Really. I thought with all your fancy magic you'd be able to deal with whatever came your way."

Of course the pixie just had to go and stab at Draco's pride. But the wizard was self-preserving above all else and he snapped, "Fine. But you have to go in first."

The pixie pursed his lips and rolled his eyes before neatly placing the plank to the side and jumping down in one smooth movement. Draco sighed and followed suit, motioning with his wand for the plank to slide back into place while dropping.

"Lumos," Draco muttered. A bright light sprouted at the tip of his wand and suddenly he wished he hadn't called up something to make the tunnel visible.

"Don't be such a pansy," smirked Raine. "It's just a little dirt."

"And bugs and spiders and who knows what else."

They began the trek down the pathway with Draco's face marred with an ongoing frown. The only sound that pervaded the stale air was the sound of their shoes on earth for quite a few minutes and, for once, the two walked in companionable silence.

"So do you have a plan once we actually get there?"

Draco jolted at the sudden question. "Well, considering I didn't actually expect you to find the passage…no, I haven't."

"I know little of how this Hogwarts works. Perhaps it would be best to go through with me now what I must know?"

Draco flushed. "That's the problem. I don't have any idea what exactly happens in Hogwarts or how it runs except for the fact that the Light Lord resides there."

"You're kidding."

"This is why I didn't want to come in the first place!"

Raine raised his eyes to the heavens. "By the spirits you are about as dull as they come, aren't you? We could have – I don't know – _asked somebody?"_

"You think one of those lowly townspeople will know what goes on in a castle?"

"Merlin, you elitist wizards are so narrow minded! What makes you think they _wouldn't _know? They literally live down the hill. How can some people not know a few tidbits here and there?"

Draco crossed his arms. "Excuse me for being cautious. How do you think it would look if we went up and asked about that castle that you claim everybody should know about? We'd look like the strangers we are and do we want that?"

Raine threw up his hands. "Then you planned on just charging into Hogwarts and looking around?"

It definitely hadn't been Draco's best plan. "Maybe."

The pixie just fell into a stunned silence as the continued to walk. Draco honestly couldn't come up with anything better in the stillness. They couldn't risk blowing their cover and they couldn't risk not checking the castle either, not with his master demanding Harry back. As much as Draco hated it, he really had no choice but to do as he had planned. Or at least it seemed like he had no other choice.

Before they could actually voice themselves again, the two came to a stop at a stone slab in front of them.

"So what now?" Draco asked.

"How am I supposed to know?"

The wizard threw Raine an incredulous look. "Don't you have your listening-to-earth powers or whatnot?"

"The earth tells me what it will. I cannot demand answers."

Draco had to take a few deep, calming breaths before walking up closer to the stone and inspecting it with the light from his wand. It showed no indication of a handle nor did the surrounding area afford any trigger. He tested it for wards but found that none blocked it. He scanned for blocking or guarding runes as well but nothing came up. The only option left was to try a counter spell to open it or find the one word that would open it.

Which could take quite a bit of time considering how many words and spells were possible.

"You might want to take a seat," Draco sighed. "This is going to take a while."

~0~

"**What did they call it?"** Harry asked.

The Basilisk eyed him for a moment before slowly responding, **"The Marauder's Map."**

A map of the entire school enchanted to list every single person and every single place exactly where they were – moving or not. That _would_ be useful.

"**You said that ginger prat had it?"**

"**Stole it from his brothers," **corrected the gigantic snake. **"But yes, he did have it before he foolishly dropped it and left it to my devices."**

Harry couldn't quite stop the smile from touching his face. This was just perfect. The dolt had stupidly left what could possibly be one of the greatest assets he had in one of the bathrooms and the Basilisk, being the magnificent creature she was, had overheard him bragging about it just a few minutes before he forgot the exact thing he was busy speaking about.

"**I appreciate your foresight,"** Harry smiled and reached out to touch her head with a hand. **"What would you like in return?"**

The Basilisk chuckled. **"I am nearing my shedding season again and some of my more loose scales are already bothering me. Before I shed, could you possibly…?"**

Harry easily complied, running his hands along the scales atop her head with the gentle tinkling of a few loose hundred scales falling to the floor of the Chamber following the movement.

"**Magic is a useful thing," **she mused contently.

Harry grinned before extracting his hand from the Basilisk and tapping the blank piece of parchment. Apparently there was a need for a certain code phrase but he knew enough about constructing magic to easily pick apart that mechanism. He had already morphed the spell configurations to bring the map to life for him and him only.

Immediately, black ink stained the paper and bled into an actively moving and changing Hogwarts map. Harry watched it with amusement, feeling like an overseer of them all. Blaise and Astoria were in the Slytherin Common Rooms, Timothy was still in the Great Hall, Leila was in the library, and Cole was beside her – no doubt planning another one of their attacks. He chuckled as he saw Professor's Snape's pacing footprints in his office and noted with slight interest that Dumbledore was absent.

He scanned the map again and noted that there were a few passages that led out of the school and into Hogsmeade. Harry realized that they were secret tunnels out and grinned. Should he ever be caught at least he knew his way out. He was watching the seven different passageways before his eyes zeroed in on one particular tunnel that was just behind the statue of a one-eyed witch, leading into Honeydukes.

No…that couldn't be possible. Surely Harry was seeing things when he saw the names just behind the statue. But if the map spoke true, than this could become a problem.

There was only one way to know. He quickly tapped the map again to turn it blank before placing it back into his book bag.

"**You always spend so little time down here," **the Basilisk commented rather tersely.

Harry sighed and ran another hand atop her head, allowing his magic to tingle down her spine and making her shiver with slight pleasure. **"I'm sorry."**

And then he was making his way to the abandoned room on the third floor where the one-eyed witch statue stood.

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><p><strong>I know that was a pretty short update but for the next week I have a crapload of tests and whatnot. But after that I'm relatively free so yay :)<strong>

**I have some things to mention but considering it's nearing 1:30 in the morning...I'm going to bed guys so toodles!**

**Till next time!**

**Ok Fine PS Cole is considerably smarter bookwise than Timothy (obviously. Why else is he in Ravenclaw?). And yes, Harry has allowed Cole to see his true personality because he knows the Ravenclaw can't spill the beans. The poor kid is so dedicated and devoted to helping Leila that he will do anything - including fraternizing with the enemy ;)**


	21. Another Spice to the Plan

**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

**Thank you to all my reviewers! They're often times such a great inspiration. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: Just Another Spice to the Plan<strong>

"What is it that you want, Lucius?"

The voice of the Dark Lord never failed to send shivers up the Malfoy patriarch's spine. The man had undeniable charisma and power about him. And danger. Lucius could never forget that danger always lingered. Perhaps that sense of always being on the edge was what truly made him stoop and call another by the title "master" like a common house elf at times. His lord's favor was difficult to win, but once won, it was far sweeter a victory.

But what Lucius was about to do – was _doing_ – was dangerous. He would never risk his neck like this on a normal basis. But this was not a normal basis; this was a dire emergency.

"I apologize for my impudence, my Lord. But I must ask…are you aware of the whereabouts of my son?"

The Dark Lord did not move for a moment. He only looked down upon his servant with an expressionless demeanor. Lucius could only be happy that the meeting adjourned just a few moments ago had been a success. It was always better to approach his Lord when things were for the better.

"You expect me to know the location of your son?"

Lucius winced. He had known the Dark Lord would react as such. His Lord was far too busy to keep up with the going-ons of those not yet in his service. But he was desperate. Draco had been gone for a few weeks already. It was a nuisance after one night, an irritation after the second, and an angering issue after the third. Only when a week had passed and there was no sign of his son did Lucius truly realize there was something wrong. Narcissa had begged him to ask the Dark Lord for assistance but he had held it off, knowing that Draco could hold his own and survive. That was how his son had been raised. But a few weeks was far too much and with no contact or sign whatsoever from Draco, Lucius had finally decided to take the risk and ask his Lord.

"I apologize, but Draco has not contacted us for weeks. Nobody has seen him either in our estate or the compound. I have checked the training halls and the archives but he has disappeared, my Lord."

Cold, crimson eyes narrowed. "I have no time for this drivel, Lucius. Now leave me. I have pressing matters to attend to – "

Desperation of a father drove Lucius to interrupt. "But surely you know of something, my Lord! Surely if you can spare some of the searches at your disposal that you have employed for your ward – "

The room was abruptly filled with the screams of a man subjugated to a Dark Lord's ire. Those outside the room winced slightly at the sound for there was many a Death Eater who could recognize a more severe punishment when they heard one. Somebody had made their Lord very, very angry.

"You dare to come to me – to come and face me! – with your worries over your pathetic excuse of a spawn? And then you dare to interrupt your Lord with the most ludicrous of propositions! How dare you presume your offspring to be of equal value to my ward? How _dare_ you suggest that what is yours would be worth more than what is _mine_?"

"I – I apologize, m – my –" The man broke off with a gargled scream, struggling to reply under his punishment. " – my Lord! I – I did not mean to s – suggest –" And he could not speak any longer for the Dark Lord only pressed forward, urging more hatred into his spell, rendering his servant incoherent.

"Do not walk into my presence again thinking you may speak your mind as you wish. You may have earned your place among your men, Lucius, but never forget who you must bow down to." The Dark Lord flicked his wand and dispelled the curse, returning to his seat with his bloody eyes still glowing with his fury. "Get out of my sight."

Even partially incapacitated, Lucius was out of the room in a matter of seconds.

Lord Voldemort sat still in his seat, raised above the rest of the room like a veritable throne. He flexed his grip upon his wand as his mind jumped from thought to thought. He only completely stilled when he heard the sliding of scales upon tile.

"**You are frustrated," **Nagini murmured, coiling herself around her master's shoulders. **"Has Harry truly hidden himself so well?"**

The only answer the Dark Lord gave was another flash of rage in his crimson eyes.

~0~

Draco groaned for what seemed the hundredth time. He had begun with the most basic counter spells of course, testing to see which category responded best and work from there to find the way through the slab of stone. But none of his tests had yielded anything except for a massive headache for him.

"Still going at it?"

"Would you please learn to shut your mouth?" Draco hissed. "I think it's fairly obvious this is not _easy_."

"You're getting frustrated after a few minutes," Raine observed, looking at his nails and leaning against the wall as if this was the most relaxing place to be. "I'd hate to see what you're going to be like hours from now."

"This will not take _hours_."

Raine rolled his eyes. "From the way this seems to be going, yes. Yes it will."

"Well then why don't you take a stab at it? Perhaps you and your almighty _fairy_ magic will work this all out."

"Fine," Raine curtly replied. "Perhaps it will."

Draco irritably stepped to the side as the pixie stepped forward. In all honesty, Raine had no idea how to even begin for pixies only dealt in natural magic but he was hardly one to ignore a challenge. He placed a hand upon the stone and sent the smallest of magical tendrils into it, hoping to see what exactly was keeping it in place.

Almost immediately, the stone opened.

Raine turned around with a smug smile on his face. "What did I tell you? Wizards are so useless at the most simplest of things."

But Draco was deathly pale, his lips drawn into a taut line and his eyes wide from shock.

"What? So startled that I managed to do what you could not?"

"Oh, I'm sure Draco just lacks the brain capacity to speak," smirked an unfamiliar voice behind the pixie.

Raine whirled around in surprise, his mouth agape. At the very threshold of the secret entrance stood a teenage boy about Draco's age. He was dressed in what seemed like standardized black robes with green lining the hood and symbol sewn into his breast pocket. A single bag was thrown over his shoulder as he crossed his arms. His hair was a veritable mess of black and his accusing eyes could only be described as the purest emerald.

"Who are you?" the pixie asked dumbly in his surprise.

"Harry," the teen promptly replied. "And you are?"

"Raine. I suppose I should thank you for opening the entrance for us…" Already, the pixie was planning some sort of excuse for being there. He knew that getting caught by one of the castle's inhabitants would not go well.

Harry sighed. "And please, let's not pretend you found this passage by pure accident as you were venturing through Honeydukes. We all know that nobody would think to open the plank towards the back of the store and travel down a dark tunnel only to sit here and try to find the way in for the fun of it."

Well, there went any hopes of excusing their way out of things. Raine raised his hands, preparing to attack when Draco's wand pushed them back down.

"Do us all a favor, pixie, and not try to get us killed," Draco hissed. "This is the one."

Ah, so _this_ was whom the wizard was about to risk his life for?

Harry's eyes narrowed but he impatiently waved them to step inside. Raine hesitated, but Draco complied without a blink. The pixie was slightly surprised by the immediate obedience. He had never thought anybody could tame that spoiled product of a wizard.

"You too, pixie," Harry said. "Unless you want to stay out here."

They trailed him through the castle halls, weaving through stone passages and occasionally deviating off certain routes when voices or footsteps were heard.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Draco quietly asked, "What are you doing here? Imagine what the Dark –" Harry quickly motioned for Draco to stop and there was no more discussion for the remainder of their trip.

Only when they finally arrived at a girl's bathroom did Draco speak again. "Where on earth are you dragging us?"

The only reply he got was a strange hissing from Harry and a gigantic entrance a moment later at the very center of the room.

"You can't expect us to go down _there_, do you?" Draco asked, aghast.

Harry smirked. "Ladies first, Malfoy." And with a swift push later, Draco was flying down the slippery pipes. Raine quickly followed when Harry raised an eyebrow. He honestly would have preferred not to but he was in foreign territory and Draco was the only guarantee here. Even with his magic, Raine could not communicate with the castle as he could have others. The magic interwoven into the structure stopped him from doing so.

It left both Draco's and Raine's hackles on edge to hear Harry's echoing laughter as they descended and the piles of bones at the very bottom did little to ease their discomfort. Why in the name of Mother Earth was Draco following a maniac?

Harry came to a stop beside them and caught their uneasy glances at the bones. "Don't worry," he said offhandedly. "She won't kill you."

"She?" Draco asked hoarsely.

"It would be wise to be kind to her. She really does hate it when rude visitors come."

Raine shivered as he sensed a sudden _unnatural _presence overwhelm him. Something about Harry had been unsettling from the very start, but whatever was down here, he could feel more visibly. Pixies had their magic tied to the land and therefore something that disrupted the natural balance was currently residing down in the bowels of the castle.

They came to a stop at a door engraved with a set of small snakes and Raine heard Harry say something in his hissing language once again. He could vaguely recall hearing certain wizards calling it Parseltongue in the past. But he had also heard it was a rare gift that only those related to the Dark Lord possessed.

The very second they stepped into the magnificent hall, both Draco and Raine gasped as they were immediately thrown to the floor, a gigantic and immovable pressure keeping them down.

"So, _Draco," _Harry snarled. "Why are you here?"

The other wizard was visibly pale now, his fingers clenching and then unclenching around the grip of his wand. Raine had sensed Draco's growing tenseness as they had walked before despite his brazen comments but he had accounted it to the fact that they were in a Light Lord's domain. Now he knew that Draco had been growing increasingly nervous – scared, even – because he could sense Harry's anger. He knew Harry well enough to know that whatever had been waiting for them hadn't been good.

"Our Lord wishes for you to return –" His reply was abruptly choked off. Had it been Harry? Raine hadn't seen the boy use a wand or any movement at all to suggest he had used magic.

"Tom sent you."

Draco was freed again to speak. "Yes," he breathed out. "He sent me to get you."

"You?" Harry burst into laughter. "He sent _you_ to come fetch me? I never knew he had so low of an opinion of me."

Draco flushed. "Well he wants you back –"

"Like he wants back a runaway toy," Harry snapped back.

"You have no idea how angry he is! He's going about cursing everybody he sees nowadays –"

"Because he's a spoiled bastard." At Draco's furious look, Harry rolled his eyes. "Even you cannot deny that Tom has a stick up his ass half of the time."

"But you have to return!"

"Because he's going to kill you if I don't?" Harry asked. "Well, I don't give a shit. He can do whatever he wishes with you."

As they continued their exchange back and forth, Raine slowly focused his magic on the stones surrounding him, calling for them to heed his call. They were reluctant, unwilling to listen to one who had not made them, but Raine eventually succeeded, gradually encouraging them to attack, to lash out at the boy arguing with the pale-haired one. He was just on brink of pouring out his magic when something large smashed itself on to his chest and he let out a pained gasp as the unnatural presence he had felt earlier suddenly assailed him.

Harry tutted from afar. "Ah, Draco. You always were a poor judge of companions. What would your father say if he saw you traveling with a pixie of all things?"

Raine could only focus on breathing heavily and pushing away the presence. This being on top of him shouldn't exist. It tipped the balance – had some control over what it should not.

"Is that a _Basilisk_?" Draco's voice was faint.

Raine could hear Harry's smug smirk. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

This was a Basilisk. No wonder Raine could barely keep conscious. Basilisks were among the magical creatures that Nature abhorred. Phoenixes were one because they defied life and death, always returning when they should not. Basilisks were another because they controlled life and death; one glance in those eyes and you were gone from this world.

"I must go now," Harry said, his footsteps already moving away from them and back towards the entrance. "I expect the both of you to behave until I come back. I would have to come down and find two corpses to deal with."

The two of them remained stock still until the enchantments keeping them in place disappeared. And even then, neither of them dared to do more than breathe until the Basilisk slowly slithered away.

~0~

Draco Malfoy and a bloody pixie. Exactly what Harry needed at this point and time. He sighed as he made his way up to the dorms. Curfew would not be called for another fifteen minutes but he felt the urge to just go back to his four-poster bed and lie there.

How had Draco found him so quickly? Did Tom already know where he was? Is that why Draco knew where to go? But it couldn't be. The Malfoy heir had been completely surprised to see Harry there, as if he hadn't been expecting it at all. Knowing Tom, he had probably sent Draco out with vague directions at best. The boy was just lucky to find the right place. Part of that luck was the pixie. Harry could sense the magical bond between the two. They had entered a contract of some kind, making it so that the two had to help each other out until the pact dissolved. Pixies had natural magic so that explained how they had found the secret passage inside.

The larger problem at hand was what to do with them now. Draco couldn't know that Harry didn't have access to his magic outside of the Chamber. There was no doubt that the contract with the pixie had allowed Draco to exist within the barrier and utilize his magic at the same time. Harry could taste the Dark magic within Draco. If the Malfoy heir ever found out and somehow made it out of the Chamber, Harry was as good as back in Tom's clutches. He would have no way of defending against Draco should it ever come to that.

Technically, Harry could do the same and procure a contract with a magical creature within the barrier, but he did not wish to bind himself to anybody. He was already tied to one being that it was just his luck that it was Tom.

Harry strode into the Slytherin Common Room, bypassing all of the rest of his dorm mates. Only when he was halfway across the room and nearly up the stairs did he brush the rune within his sleeve.

The next attack will be tomorrow during the match.

The entire room immediately tensed as everybody absorbed the fiery message etched into the air and only when it dissipated into smoke did they gradually relax. It was as silent as it had been before, but now there was a new sense of anticipation in the air. They had accepted the message as truth. They had been doing so for the past few weeks and by doing so, they had escaped many of the pranks that the other Houses had not. What was once a danger was now a mysterious information source that the Slytherins had inadvertently taken as their guide even when nobody voiced it aloud. There was just a quiet consensus among them all that following the fire-written instructions was best no matter how many of them disliked obeying a disembodied source.

Like puppets controlled by their master.

Harry couldn't help the satisfied grin touch his lips as he continued up the stairs. Now that he thought about it, Draco would just add some much needed spice into his plans. What good was winning a game without a few good obstacles on the way?

* * *

><p><strong>Merry Christmas Eve (or whatever else you guys celebrate if you're not Christian)! Hopefully Santa comes along and brings lots of gifts! <strong>

**Voldemort! Gotta love him in all his angst. **

**And sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors! I didn't really check over it. **

**Till next time! **


	22. Necopi!

**I do not own anything that could get me sued. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers! I truly appreciate the time you guys take to write a comment or two :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22: Necopi!<strong>

"Cole."

The Third Year Ravenclaw flinched at the cold bite in Leila's tone. "Yes?"

She eyed him for a long moment with an appraising air before abruptly asking, "Do you know Harry Evans?"

It took almost all of Cole's control not to flinch at the question. She couldn't know. How on earth could Leila ever know that he was in contact with Timothy's self-appointed shadow? He had been cautious – ridiculously so. Every single time he went to meet with the Slytherin, Cole made sure to have an alibi, to subtly inform somebody that he was headed to the library to study. Being a Ravenclaw provided enough explanation for that excuse. But even then, he made sure that nobody could follow him to whatever true destination he was headed for. He had asked Harry a long time ago for a rune that would hide him from sight and the Slytherin had obliged with a bemused and knowing expression.

"Yes," Cole answered cautiously. "Isn't he the…Squib in Slytherin?" Who didn't? By phrasing it that way, it would sound like he was no different from the next person in terms of specific knowledge concerning Harry. Cole was afraid she would find out, and not just because it meant he was not truly learning the runes on his own. He had realized a long time ago that Leila held a special hatred for Harry. She never voiced it in front of Cole but the occasional dark looks and clenching of hands every single time she passed the Slytherin in the halls was more than enough of an indicator.

"That's him," she replied. "Have you ever spoken to him?

"No." _Yes_.

Leila was quiet, contemplating. "What do you know about him?"

Cole's answer was immediate. "I know he began his schooling here with little to no knowledge about most of the subjects. He is the only Squib to take magical classes and from what I've seen, particularly dislikes sports. He likes to read because I see him in the library and…" He was wary of saying the last part but something told him that Leila wanted the whole answer. "…he is close friends with Timothy."

Her lips thinned at the last comment but she nodded with approval. "That is all true." Leila fell into silence again and Cole almost turned back to the essay he had been completing before she changed the subject. "I think we can both confidently say by now that Isa is under Timothy's control."

Cole blinked at the change of subject but he didn't hesitate to reply. "Yes."

"But how on earth did my dearest friend come across the name? I know for a fact Timothy does not know any runes. None of us have access to the magical library and he certainly doesn't have the patience to read about them himself if he even had access to it in the first place." Leila twined her fingers together before lacing them underneath her chin. "And I know he does not have the same resources you do either."

Again, Cole had to restrain a wince at her words. She thought his parents worked as servants for a wealthy magical family, which allowed him access to magical books behind their backs. Cole knew Leila's mother did, in fact, work for a wealthy magical family but he also knew she did not have the access she thought he had.

He hadn't planned to get tangled in the mess that was Harry Evans. In all honesty, all he had been looking for was just another way to help Leila. She had saved him, pulled him out of the never-ending cycle of ineptitude that he had been trapped in. All he used to think about was just how to escape the next minute or moment – hoping against hope that there wouldn't be another attack waiting for him around the next corner. When Leila had stepped in, he thought she would only be dragged in with him, another casualty. But that hadn't been the case at all. Imagine his surprise when his life actually stopped being a clutter of continuous stress. Now he could look ahead and actually think about something other than the next face-off. Now he could focus on his classes and walk the halls without fear.

Because he had learned the invaluable lesson of having the right _connections._

Leila hadn't been the most influential Ravenclaw, especially not as a Squib, but she had been competent in her classes and well known. People would have actually _noticed_ if she had been treated as he had been. And not just anybody, but the teachers would have noticed. And that crucial connection, Cole had realized, was what had pushed his tormentors away from him.

It had taken him a few weeks to notice that crucial fact, but once he did, he acted. It was no coincidence he had begun to pick up his own "group". He might have been a recluse and complete wallflower before, but it was that sense of loneliness, that desperation for _any_ company, that taught him how to gain "friends". He had watched people live their lives – watched how they laughed and spoke and respected and interacted. He had been indescribably jealous of them. How was it that he of all people had become the object of the magical students' attention and not been allowed the same? For three years, he had stewed in that bitterness – and watched.

Leila pursed her lips. "So if Timothy has no access to magical information and no desire to acquire it, who do you think provides Isa with the means to complete their escapades?"

"You think it's Evans who's giving Timothy the runes."

"Who else?" she demanded. "Who else in Isa do you know has access to a magical library with all of its tomes on runes? Who else would have the patience to sit down and actually learn everything from scratch like you?"

"We don't know exactly who is a part of Isa," Cole cautiously said. "It might be another Ravenclaw."

Leila's eyes flashed with that dark fury so often associated to Harry. "No," she breathed. "It's _him_. I just know it is. Timothy trusts no one else nowadays." Her hands tightened on the book she was clutching. "And he's a Slytherin. There is a reason why he was Sorted there. Ravenclaws aren't the only ones who carry the brains around here. Snakes can have some semblance of intelligence as well when it comes to their ambitions."

The conversation was getting far too uncomfortable. If Harry was a slimy Slytherin because he took magical classes for his own benefit and goals, what did that make Cole? Was he really any different?

"Watch over him today," Leila said. "I don't want anything going amiss because of him."

"Isa has never intruded upon our moves before…why do you think we should be wary now?"

"Let's just say…it's a hunch."

~0~

With Draco in the Chamber with his pixie, Harry wanted nothing more than to summon Severus and actually put the man to use. But as breakfast soared by and any chance at slipping away before the Quidditch match disappeared, he reasoned that it would have to wait. It wasn't like the Malfoy heir was going anywhere any time soon.

"Are you sure your informant was absolutely correct?" Harry asked Timothy with a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Ben wouldn't lie to me," the Gryffindor whispered back. "What he heard was crystal clear."

Of course, Harry knew that. The little idiot minion wouldn't have heard Eihwaz's plans for today if he hadn't ensured the accidental eavesdropping would happen. But he nodded uneasily all the same and tugged his green and silver scarf more securely around his neck.

"Are you going to do anything about it?" Harry mumbled through the cloth.

Timothy shrugged. "We might be their opposition, but I don't think we should challenge them so outright yet. We haven't actually done anything to show that we're countering Eihwaz."

Harry threw the Gryffindor a long look. "You don't think calling ourselves Isa wasn't enough of a hint already?"

"That was your idea!"

"And you never said anything against it," Harry pointed out.

Timothy sighed in defeat and ruefully shook his head. "I swear sometimes you're the only thing holding me up, Harry." He grinned. "Thanks."

"It's…nothing." And was he really so twisted as to feel guilt _now_ of all times? Now, after months of stringing Timothy along like he had?

Harry glanced over as the stands came into view and raised a gloved hand. "See you after the game?"

Timothy nodded. "See you, Harry." And they departed to their respective House stands. In all honesty, Harry wondered if it was wise to allow whatever Eihwaz had planned to continue. He actually did not know what exactly was going to happen but he knew that something bigger was occurring today.

The rune Cole had asked for just the other day had been enough of a hint.

~0~

Keeping an eye on Harry was actually a lot easier said than done. Cole was in Ravenclaw after all and he somehow had to manage keeping an eye on a Slytherin. Their stands were actually right beside each other but it was still difficult to pinpoint a lone figure in a gigantic crowd of green.

Not only was he watching for his runes teacher, but he was also the one responsible for activating the rune Leila had requested. He did not know how it was going to be used since she had decided where it was to be placed and several others had been the ones to actually write the runes on the desired location. He had just been given the triggering slip this morning. They had learned from experience that the runes were much more potent with his activation.

He was to wait for Leila's pointer. She was sitting an entire few rows away from him this game but just one flippant curl of her fingers around a lock of her hair was sufficient signal enough.

Cole's eyes locked on to two figures just entering the field. One was dressed in gold and crimson while the other was distinctly wearing the Slytherin colors. It was odd how two obviously contrasting colors worked so well together. It was odd how much Harry seemed to respect the Gryffindor.

He carefully watched Harry separate from Timothy and observed as the boy walked up the steps to the Slytherin seats. It was no surprise when he was sidled to a rather lonely corner while the rest of the small house eagerly cluttered together. Harry was a Squib after all.

But then again, since when did Slytherins _clutter together_? They were never the type to gather around in anticipation. Aloof interest was more their style. The strange behavior made Cole's mouth crease downwards but his mind was quickly brought back to the game as the two teams competing today came forward: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Cole's eyes darkened as he spotted many of his old tormentors strutting out in their blue uniforms. They thought they had every right to every thing just because they could fly around on a broom and shoot a few sparks off their wands.

"I want a good, clean game," said Madam Hooch's magically amplified voice. "I would like one where I don't have to send somebody to the Hospital Wing for once." Which was actually quite possible considering the Slytherins weren't in the picture for this game but the Gryffindors were known to highly covet the Quidditch Cup they had been hoarding for the last few consecutive years.

She blew her whistle once, piercingly, before throwing up the Quaffle into the air and opening the chest with the two Bludgers and the singe, golden Snitch.

The two teams were at each other's throats so quickly, Cole almost lost track of what was going on. Luckily, the more than vocal Lee Jordan was happily supplying the details.

"And it looks like Gryffindor has the Quaffle! Wood soars past the guard, dives into – whoa! – close save there! Nice swerve from the Bludger hit from the Ravenclaw Beaters!"

Cole quickly tuned out the loud intercom and instead focused his eyes on the game while occasionally flicking his eyes over to the Slytherin stands and down at Leila. For the good first half of the game, he sat in tense preparation. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like nothing was going to happen, another typical Quidditch game. But Leila had something planned and "typical" was far from what Cole knew she had in mind.

Just as the Snitch came into view and the two teams' Seekers shot at a mad dive for it, Leila casually coiled a lock of her hair around one of her fingers.

Cole automatically pressed a finger to a rune so innocently etched on to a piece of paper held in the folds of his hands and murmured, "Necopi."

~0~

It seemed to be that Leila was taking her time. What on earth was she waiting for? The game was beginning to bore Harry who, although knew all of the rules and whatnot, held no particular interest for the sport. It was probably another one of Tom's influences. The Dark Lord was talented in many things but Quidditch was certainly not one of them.

The only warning Harry got to the attack was a slight flare of raw magic and the Snitch that the two Seekers had been reaching for exploded.

It wasn't even a very large one, considering Harry had wisely taken the precautions to only show Cole the milder version of the rune. But the combined factors of being a few hundred feet in the air hurtling at the ground at an almost uncontrolled speed along with the unexpected explosion sent the one Seeker closest to the Snitch falling to the earth.

There was a horrified intake of breath from the crowd and a few shrieks before Harry was almost stifled with the disgustingly cloying taste of Light magic permeate the air. His eyes strayed to the teachers' booth and, indeed, he saw Dumbledore standing tall with his wand extended – no doubt easing the Seeker's fall.

But then there was another slight flare of weaker raw magic and the Seeker who had slowed down for the smallest of milliseconds suddenly lost all semblance of a calm descent and fell the remaining space to land with a sickening thud.

The entire field was silent. Nobody dared to breathe and for once, Harry was just as choked as the rest of them. Then everybody seemed to snap out of their stupor and into a mass of panic as Madam Pomfrey went hustling down to the field, trying to salvage what could be saved.

Harry turned away. There was no point in looking. He had seen the angle the boy had fallen at and considering how quickly and how harshly the ending had been, there was no doubt Death had already come to collect its prize.

A name so previously nonchalant – a mere annoyance really – came with unbidden hatred to Harry's lips. "Leila," he snarled, _knowing_ she had done this. The first must have been one of her followers, probably Cole. But the second flare of magic…Harry just knew it was her. Who else was as far gone to decide the death of a fellow student like that?

Ironic how he was pondering that question when he himself was probably the most likely candidate out of all of them.

A bubbling sense of fury Harry hadn't felt in long time burned his insides. This had happened far too quickly and far too messily. He had never intended for the competition to go this far. Not yet. This would just unsettle everything. It might even cause Timothy to regress and become more cautious when he was finally opening up. Harry couldn't stand another few months of drawing out another large reaction from the Gryffindor.

And that wasn't even Harry's biggest problem anymore. This incident would spread like wildfire and while the teachers had turned a blind eye to their antics beforehand, now a close inspection of what had caused all this in the first place would ensue and maybe even destroy everything Harry had worked to build in the Squibs. The non-magical students might have been retaliating, but they were far from confident enough to take on actual authority when it came at them point blank.

Harry spun around and quickly walked down the stands while everybody was distracted. The Slytherins were the most contained so far. They had been warned the night before but even then, he could sense their silent astonishment at what had happened.

This was supposed to be Light territory. What was a death, a murder by the looks of it, doing here?

Harry walked around the back of the counters, headed straight for the Ravenclaw seats. He easily slipped by a few panicked students and his lip curled at their gaping faces. If this was so disgusting to all of them, why were they looking? It was such a human nature to look at what should not be looked at. He grasped the arm of a certain ashen-faced Third Year Ravenclaw, dragging the seemingly stunned boy out of the stands and down behind the seats into a shrouded alcove where they would be alone.

"What have you done?" Harry hissed, barely reining in his desire to throttle the boy in front of him. "What have you _done_?"

Cole was so pale Harry doubted the ghosts had a paler complexion. "I – I didn't…oh my God what have I – what just –"

For the first time in years, Harry resorted to physical abuse and punched the Ravenclaw clean in the face. Cole recoiled in shock but his eyes abruptly cleared of the shock he had been drowning in. A single trail of blood began to seep from his nose.

"Answer me," Harry snarled. "I did not agree to teach you runes so that you could go traipsing around and _killing_ students for the fun of it!"

"I had no idea!" Cole gasped out desperately. Harry could see the beginnings of tears collecting around the boy's eyes. "I honestly didn't! Leila – she wouldn't – she didn't tell me anything!"

"So you just followed her blindly?"

"She would never just kill another student!" Cole snapped.

Harry threw his hands in the air. "Then what was _that_?"

"He isn't dead," Cole said, his jaw suddenly set stubbornly. "You can't say that. Madam Pomfrey wasn't done with him yet."

"Then grievously injuring somebody is okay as long as that person doesn't die?" The Ravenclaw opened his mouth to retort but Harry cut him off. "No. You're obviously in denial about this. Do you really believe that what just happened out there was alright?"

Harry was actually startled to see Cole pause. He had expected an immediate answer from this Light raised boy. His eyes narrowed and then widened as realization hit him square in the face.

"The Seeker used to be one of the people who tormented you, wasn't he? It was the Ravenclaw Seeker that fell."

Cole's head snapped up and their eyes locked. Harry had never noticed how blue the Ravenclaw's eyes were until now, blazing with a sort of impassioned confusion.

When no answer came from Cole, Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It was. Merlin, is that why you're okay with this?"

"I'm not! I'm just…"

"Conflicted," Harry finished for him. Oh, he knew all too well what Cole was going through. The Ravenclaw only had to deal with his past bully. Harry had to deal with his parents' murderer. "Look, I can see why you might think the whole incident might not have been a completely bad thing – that the guy actually deserved it – but I can tell you right here and right now that he's dead."

Cole actually sobbed a little and clamped a hand to his mouth, shaking his head.

"But," Harry had no idea whether this was the smart thing to say right now. "I'm not saying that you're wrong."

The Ravenclaw looked so bug-eyed and shocked Harry almost laughed. The boy didn't expect that now did he?

"He made three years of your life – three years you will never get back – a living hell. I think you have a right to see his demise. Just…death might have been too _showy_ of a revenge."

"But…I didn't do it! I didn't know it was going to happen!"

"But you don't regret it, do you?"

Cole looked down at his shoes in shame.

"Like I said," Harry murmured. "I'm not judging you on it. I think the bastard probably deserved it. And you weren't even the one who planned it all out. So you have nothing to feel bad about. Remember though, if you ever contemplate revenge in the future, keep it more subtle."

Cole was struggling with himself. And Harry wasn't helping. The poor kid was probably still engrossed in his moral restrictions and whatnot. The Ravenclaw didn't say a word for the longest of moments. At the sound of a simultaneous gasp and a few sobs from the stands, Harry realized that they didn't have much time left alone here until people started pouring down to return to the castle. They had probably heard the final, dreadful diagnosis from the Mediwitch.

He reached out and gripped Cole's shoulder. "Next time, keep Leila in line," Harry said quietly and fiercely. "_Ask_ her what she's going to do and for Merlin's sake, don't follow her if she's going down a suicidal path." Honestly, Harry didn't need any more complications in his plans.

Cole didn't seem too convinced to follow Harry's commands but at the shuffling from above them, Harry continued. He didn't have time right now to totally persuade the Third Year. "I won't teach you anymore runes if you don't ask her. And…keep this quiet. Remember our deal." And then Harry slipped away and melted into the crowd just pouring down from the stands.

As he strode away from the Ravenclaw, Harry hoped against hope that Leila had at least enough reason still in her to leave this deed unmarked, without her group's trademark sign all over it. He accidentally bumped into another student in front of him and almost growled for the kid to get a move on but stopped when he saw why the crowd had temporarily stopped.

Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch were solemnly levitating the body away, covered with a conjured blanket.

Harry did not have a squeamish stomach. How could he, growing up with Tom? But this time, he almost choked as he saw the Eihwaz rune etched into every single spare inch of skin that the blanket couldn't quite cover.

Mordred, Morgana, and Merlin. This was not what he had planned at all.

~0~

Severus reached out a hand as the Evans boy passed by and harshly yanked the boy with him through the castle's halls and down into the dungeons before closing and _locking_ his private doors behind them.

"What just happened, Evans?"

The Slytherin threw him a filthy (tired?) glare and suddenly, Severus wasn't so sure how intelligent it was of him to lock the door behind them. "If you believe that ridiculous stunt down there was of my doing, then you are completely deluded. I would not have been so foolish as to kill a fellow student in front of hundreds."

"Then what is going on?" Severus hissed. "I meant to speak to you about this earlier, but –"

"But what?" Evans snapped. "But _what_?" A sly smile touched the boy's lips. "Too afraid to ask?"

Severus clenched his hands but knew better than to do anything too rash. "If you would just tell me what's going on –"

"You're wasting your time," Evans interrupted again, clearly impatient. "You have no need to know more than what I want you to know. Tell me the real reason you brought me here. Surely you knew that had I wanted to inform you of anything I would have done so by now?"

It was true. Ever since the Headmaster had contacted him via Floo Network, he had been receiving insatiable itches along his arm – itches he somehow knew would not abate until he alerted Evans about what had transpired. The only reason why he had dragged the boy down now was because of the incident. He had hoped to catch the Slytherin off balance but really, he should have known better.

"The Headmaster spoke to me a few weeks ago," Severus gritted out.

A few _weeks_ ago?" Harry raised an eyebrow and then an amused grin creased his mouth. "You _are_ a resilient one, aren't you? I suppose a small itch compared to Tom's old persuasions must mean nothing to a Death Eater like yourself."

"I am not –"

"Please, let's not argue over the obvious."

That brat's interruptions were beginning to wear on Severus' nerves. "Fine. The Headmaster called me a few weeks ago and he has suspicions that you are the one who instigated this whole affair of pranks among the students."

For once, Evans stilled and had nothing smart to say back. Severus almost smiled at the change.

"…I assume you were acquaintances with a Lucius Malfoy when you were still on the opposite side of the barrier?"

The different subject left Severus gaping for the briefest of moments before he could collect himself to say, "Perhaps."

"So you knew him well, then."

_Damn him. _"How would you know that?"

Evans smirked. "Knowing you, you would not consider anybody an acquaintance unless you were particularly close."

It was painfully true. "Why do you wish to know that?"

"I can assume you knew his son, Draco then," the boy continued as if he hadn't heard the question at all.

Severus's lips tightened into a thin line. This had not been a very wise choice to bring the boy down here. It was a good thing that Severus had done it on his terms though. If he had waited for Evans to come to him, this conversation would no doubt be happening in the Chamber of Secrets.

"I met Draco when he was still a babe, yes."

"He's down in the Chamber. I do not have the luxury to babysit him. I want you to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything foolish. Like leaving."

Severus blinked. "Draco is…"

"And don't take a few weeks to contact me again," Evans breezed, suddenly distracted and already finished with the conversation. "I will give you one day tops from now on."

"Wait, what –" But the boy had neatly turned around and opened the door to leave.

A _locked_ door.

Evans caught the astonished expression on the Potions Master's face and grinned impishly. "You should really be more careful," the boy chuckled and waved a small slip of paper in front of him. "Runes are awfully convenient things."

~0~

Draco sighed and leaned his head against one of the many stone pillars in the Chamber. He closed his eyes and wondered how on earth everything had turned out so badly. Never before had he gone from nearly dying one day to being trapped within a secret Dark cavity underneath a Light Lord's castle the next. It was something that only happened to the fantastically unlucky.

Then again, what as that saying about him?

He opened his eyes and glanced over at Raine. The pixie had not said a single word since the Basilisk had slithered away and he was still visibly shivering as if he had a perpetual chill.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked.

Raine raised feverish eyes and winced. "The Basilisk. It goes against Nature's wishes, against its balance. I have my magic based on Nature so..."

"Oh." Honestly, what else could Draco say? It wasn't like he knew how to fix the pixie's problem. He had no idea that something Nature supposedly had a vendetta against affected magical creatures like that. Then again, even as a wizard unaffected by Nature, he was terrified of the gigantic snake. Just one glance in the eyes and you were gone. He was almost afraid to look any further than his shoes.

They sat in silence, Draco personally hoping Harry would return soon because it was getting rather chilly. But then he hissed as something in his robe pocket seared against his thigh and glowed through the cloth. He hastily pulled it out and channeled his magic into it to stop the flare of light. It wouldn't do either of them any good to attract the Basilisk's attention right now.

Raine flinched at the flow. "What was that?"

With everything that had happened, Draco had almost completely forgotten about the stone he had given to the weak witch back in the first town he had visited. It had been so long and she hadn't contacted him so he had begun to disregard the fact that anything worthwhile would come out of the connections he had formed.

The magic he had channeled into the stone activated it, allowing her voice to be transmitted through.

"Hello? Hello!"

"Good Merlin," Draco hissed to himself. "I'm here! I'm here!" He tried to keep his voice down and snapped, "Be silent! I am in a delicate situation!"

Immediately the girl's voice softened. "I – I'm sorry, Marcus."

Raine raised an eyebrow at the name the girl used but Draco just made a silencing motion. "Hello…" Draco had forgotten her name already. "…erm…what have you discovered?"

She didn't pick up on his slip. "I've found somebody who met a person who matched the description you gave me about your friend."

Useless information now that he had already found Harry. "That's…great! Thank you so much. Could you…?"

"I met him just outside the border of the town yesterday," her eager voice conveyed. "One of my friends who moved a few weeks ago met him and sent him to greet me. It's a boy about your age and he says that he ran into a traveler a few months back with black hair and eyes that matched emeralds. He had been headed north."

North. The direction of Scotland. It was a possibility. "Did he say my friend's name?"

"Yes. He said…Harry? Is that your friend?"

Draco sighed before turning back to the stone. "That's him," he confirmed. He was about to cut ties with her now that she was useless but then he paused and asked, "By any chance do you know who this informant is?"

"He's a supporter of the…Dark. And he seems to know quite a bit about your friend Harry. That is all I know for sure. He refuses to tell me his name."

Perfect. A smile split Draco's face. "That must be difficult for you," he murmured, trying to keep the glee from entering his voice. "Has he caught you?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. Can you tell him something for me?"

"Of course!"

Draco smirked. "Tell him to travel to the Fens as a favor for Harry. Then tell him the way out is 'the target is behind the barrier'." He was banking on the fact that the informant did actually know Harry well enough to follow such orders but something told him that a stranger who is reluctant enough to say his name must have spent enough time around the Dark Lord's ward to care enough and take the time to travel to a town to meet a single girl.

There was some clear confusion in the witch's voice after she digested the information. "That's interesting…but I'll definitely tell him."

"Don't tell him I told you."

"Of course. It's good to hear from you again."

Draco could see the mock retching Raine was portraying to the side and scowled as he replied, "It's good to hear from you too. Keep…well." And he cut the connection before anything more incriminating could occur.

Despite the pixie's lingering apprehension about their prison, Raine burst into muffled laughter. "Do you have a little girlfriend, _Marcus?"_

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaay! Got another chapter in :) Guess inspiration was on my side this week. <strong>

**Anyway I hope it's pretty obvious that Harry needs his moral compass realigned. He's telling Cole that it's okay to take vicious revenge (and maybe even go as far as killing) so long as he isn't caught. Fun stuff guys, fun stuff. **

**And I bet poor Sara Fawcett was practically forgotten by all of you guys, wasn't she? She won't be a major character but hey she'll have her influence. **

**And "Necopi" means "surprise" (well...at least on google translate it does. I don't know how accurate that is so I'm sorry if I'm completely off the mark). Haha...get it? That's Leila's poor humor for you. The word itself didn't have any power in it but served only as the trigger for the rune to act. Just remind you guys. **

**Till next time! **


	23. Is That a Mistake I See?

******I do not own anything that will get me sued.**

**Thank you to all my reviewers! I really appreciate the time you take to post comments!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 23: Is That a Mistake I See?<strong>

Draco's eyes slowly fluttered open as the grating sound of stone resounded through the chamber. He unrepentantly groaned in annoyance and threw an arm over his eyes. Couldn't Harry just leave him to sleep in peace? Wasn't it bad enough that he was trapped in this hovel of a hideout? He hadn't realized it before, but with all of the events that had recently occurred in his life, he had hardly any time to rest. After Draco had finished his conversation with Sara, he had leaned back with all intentions of deciphering a way out of his situation. But then sleep had taken over before he could even form a coherent thought.

Draco's lingering sleepiness disappeared the moment a firm hand grasped his arm.

Out of reflex, he twisted out of the grip, snapped his wand in hand, and shouted, "_Confringo_!"

"_Protego!_" retaliated the unknown with a note of barely suppressed surprise.

The man – Draco realized now that he was awake – moved quickly to avoid any incoming spell after defending himself but he didn't move fast enough. Even before the words had left his mouth, the young blonde had leaped to his feet and cast _Incarcerous_. The man only managed to take a single step before ropes appeared to incapacitate him and another _Expelliarmus _had his wand skidding a few feet away from reach. It all happened in the span of a few seconds and Raine, who had also fallen asleep, barely awoke to see Draco standing over a crooked-nosed manclothed in black robes.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Draco ground out. He thought only Harry could come down here.

The man sneered. "I see I have another nuisance on my plate."

"What are you babbling about?"

Raine could detect a sense of irritation from the stranger. "Believe me, I would not be down here in this godforsaken _cave_ if I had any say in this entire affair, Draco."

The blonde's eyebrows shot up and he leaned down with a threatening snarl. "How do you know my name?"

"How can I not know my own godson's name?"

That had been completely unexpected and Raine's astonished expression matched Draco's own. The younger wizard faltered for a moment, his wand going lax for a split second before his mouth hardened and spat, "I don't know what you're talking about. No Light wizard could possibly be related to me in any way."

"Has your father not mentioned me?" the dark man asked. At Draco's lack of reply, the stranger pursed his lips. "I see he hasn't. I suppose Lucius wouldn't speak to you about a man he believes to be a traitor."

The man's clear knowledge of Draco's personal life unnerved the blonde. "What? Why in Merlin's name would my father be associated with the likes of you?"

"You have really never heard of a man named Severus Snape?"

At those words, Draco completely stilled and his eyes widened in astonishment. "No. _You?_ You're dead! Murdered by the Dark Lord for your insurrection!" It was what he had heard from the many Death Eaters back beyond the barrier. Severus Snape's story was well known among the lower ranks and considered a very good example of a cautionary tale. The Inner Circle, however, rarely spoke of it because once upon a time, Severus Snape had been one of them.

"And yet here I am," Severus remarked dryly. "Now would you be mature and free me of these restraints?"

"Do you think I'm a bloody fool?" Draco snapped. "I'm not going to free you! You're a traitor!"

"Has your father taught you nothing? What makes you think I would be down here in the first place if I am not supposed to be?"

But Draco was not that easily mollified. He had not grown up in a world infused with skepticism for nothing. It was not part of his nature to believe explanations without an excess of proof and an Unbreakable Vow to go along with it. His eyes narrowed and he asked, "Potter wanted you down here?"

It was Severus' turn to be confused. "Potter?"

Draco's eyes flashed at the question. "You _are_ lying. If you don't know that much, then you are clearly not here for the reasons you say you are. How am I supposed to believe anything you have said?"

"Potter?" the Potions Master still spluttered. "The Potters are dead!"

Draco's eyes widened again and, before the older wizard could continue, spat, _"Stupefy."_

Severus was out the moment the red spell hit him.

The chamber was silent for a few moments as the two boys stared at the unconscious body before Raine finally spoke. "Well, what on earth was that about? Why did you knock him out?"

Draco was silent, suddenly dreadfully sure that even if Harry had sent this man down here, the Dark Lord's ward had not told this Snape his true last name for a reason. If this man was indeed Severus Snape, then he would notice the slip, begin to connect the dots with Draco's reference to the Potters.

~0~

Harry wasted no time after his meeting with the Potions Master. Rushing down to the Slytherin dorms, he hastily hurried through the still-empty Common Room and quickly darted into his room. He closed the door behind him and fell to his knees beside his bed to reach underneath and feel for the loose stone he had pried from the mortar months before. As soon as the stone was out of the way, he reached in and pulled out an old box.

The box itself was of no particular value. Harry had only found it in an empty classroom once – probably a discarded object that some student had decided to abandon. But it was the contents inside that concerned him right now. He brushed his fingers over the binding rune he had engraved on the lock and immediately peered inside.

He pointedly ignored the silver bangle that innocently rested in the corner. A part of him hadn't been able to leave it behind when he had escaped from Tom but another part of him loathed the fact that it was even here. It was a way for Tom to find him and it was not something he wanted right now. Harry hardly ever touched it unless it was entirely necessary. Even when carrying with him through the barrier and into the school, he had it wrapped in a thick cloth surreptitiously hidden within his clothes.

The silver continued to tease him as he focused upon the two other objects in the opposite corner of the box. In that particular section, there lay two pieces of wood lightly smeared with blood of two different types and a set of Dreaming Runes meticulously etched into them. Harry had made sure to hide them after he had created them – just in case somebody with just enough knowledge to recognize them came along. The last he had seen of them had been weeks ago, when he had last activated Leila's. They had seemed fine and working exactly as they should have.

But after what Leila had done today, Harry had a horrible feeling that maybe they weren't as perfect as he had presumed them to be.

How else could she have done what she had? He had intended for Leila to push Timothy, to be the more ruthless one. But what she had done had gone beyond that. _Far_ beyond it. Harry loathed the thought that her sudden behavior was his fault but there couldn't be any other explanation. A straight E and O student who had been obedient and pleasant for the past five years could not change into a murderer so quickly.

Harry ran his eyes over the runes, checking them over and over. He grit his teeth in frustration when he couldn't spot anything wrong with them. He had done Leila's exactly as he had done Timothy's and Timothy was going batshit insane right now. So what made Leila's situation different? What was making her do the things she was doing?

Harry's mouth tasted sour when he could only come up with one answer: he didn't know. It had been a long time since he hadn't known something.

Harry let out a frustrated breath and leaned back on his heels in an effort to calm himself and think. This wasn't a situation he could afford to lose his head in. This situation called for cool, collected logic.

First things first: what could cause mental instability with Dreaming Runes? There were a variety of causes; forcing somebody to dream what they normally would not could do that to a person. It most likely had to do with the content of her dreams but even Harry didn't know how to see exactly what went on in somebody's dream. He could only influence the direction of her nightly illusions but nothing more. The command he had placed into the dreams was a simple one – the best ones were. All he had directed her to do was dream of her resentment. Harry had known that it would inevitably edge towards the magical students in Hogwarts because it was the most local and intimate thing that she most likely resented at the moment. It was most Squibs resented.

The tactic certainly worked with Timothy but Harry had probably misjudged Leila. What could she possibly resent more than the ever-present oppressive hand of the magical students worsening their lives day in and day out? No Squib could possibly _like _that. Sure, there would be smaller things like maybe a quarrel with a friend that might impede on the dreams but that was alright so long as the focus was on the magical students.

But then again, Harry realized that he should have gotten to know his subject more than he had before instigating the Dream Runes. He had been lucky with Timothy, assuming that the magical students were the main source of resentment. But then he had presumed the same with Leila and now that he was looking at it, it had completely backfired on him. She most likely resented something far more than the magical students and their bullying.

Harry groaned aloud and slapped a hand to his face. How many times had Tom told him that he was too rash, that he rushed into things too much? Years under his guardian had tamed such impulses but apparently, it was still present. Harry had caused somebody's death because he had _assumed._

Mordred, had Tom been here, Harry wouldn't have heard the end of it.

Now he had to go and fix the entire mess before it turned into something he could no longer control. Things were bad now, but he had no idea what else Leila had planned. Harry didn't know what she resented so much but perhaps if he just stopped the dreams, things would calm down.

He picked up the piece of wood containing Leila's blood and neatly snapped the piece of wood in half, destroying the rune array and its effects. He stared at the pieces for a moment and then he angrily shoved the box shut, reset the rune, and set the stone back in place beneath his bed once the contents were safely inside.

Hopefully that would stop Leila's rampage, but Harry wouldn't deal in _maybes _anymore. He had to make sure this was a thorough job and that meant speaking to Cole.

~0~

Harry looked at Timothy's trembling form and felt the need to curse Leila twenty different ways to hell. It was clear his project had been shaken up. If this turned all of his efforts into nothing, Harry would make sure that the Ravenclaw girl _paid_. Maybe it had been his fault that things had come this far, but he hadn't set up the perfect situation for change only to have it all crushed beneath the boots of a foolish girl's actions.

"He – he was just…_dead_."

"I know, Timothy," Harry impatiently said. He wasn't in the mood for acting the part of the good friend right about now. He had more important things to deal with than a traumatized Gryffindor. "But now we know she's beyond help. We need to – "

"But Leila didn't do it!"

Harry stared at Timothy in complete surprise before he groaned and threaded his fingers through his hair. "Oh Merlin, you're in denial now. Timothy, we don't have time for this! We're the only ones who really know what's going on and actually know how to stop it all before the teachers and higher-ups get an idea of what's happening. For now they might think it was just a mess-up. But what do you think will happen to _us_ once they become suspicious enough to see what really happened?"

Timothy spluttered, "B-but this is Leila! I've known her for years! Playing some pranks or something on the magical students is one things but killing them…?"

"Get ahold of yourself!" Harry snapped. "We don't have time for this! I need you to gather the members of Isa and tell them what's going on. We have to be on alert and we have to actually stop everything Leila is going to do from now on. Do you _want_ another student to die?"

Timothy's eyes had lost focus as he tried to process everything that had happened. On a normal basis, Harry would have allowed it, encouraged it even. But for all he knew, Leila was plotting again and he couldn't allow that. Perhaps now would be a good time to let his mask slip just a little to speed things up.

Harry snarled, gripping Timothy's shirt and shoving him into the cold wall of the empty hallway they were meeting in. He was surprised how easy it was to do so considering the other boy was far more physically built for resisting. It was the shock still sitting in. "Look, I did not spend all that time being your friend just to see you break down like some pathetic mongrel over this! I thought you were strong enough to lead a group and that is why I have been following you and believing in you. But if this is the best you can do than I'm ashamed to have ever called you a friend."

That seemed to slap the Gryffindor to attention. "What? Harry what are you – "

"I heard from one of the magical students." Not truly, the Marauder's Map had helped him this time. "There's a place you can meet with everybody without getting caught. It's on the Seventh Floor in the left corridor and has a hidden entrance opposite the tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. Walk past it three times while concentrating on how much you need a room to meet in and by the third time, a door should appear."

"Wait –"

"Just do it." Harry released his grip on the shirt. "And prove to me that you're worth it."

~0~

"My Lord," Yaxley murmured deferentially, his head bowed to avoid the ever-growing ire of his master. "We have captured an intruder – a boy – upon the grounds."

Voldemort wanted nothing more than to torture the follower before him. What was so important about some lowly intruder? There were many who came upon the grounds and his Death Eaters knew better than to raise such miniscule matters when the problem could be easily dealt with a Killing Curse. It was only what Yaxley said next that stilled the Dark Lord's hand.

"The boy has told us that he has come as a favor from your ward."

Voldemort automatically stilled in his seat. "Did any of the lower ranks understand what the boy meant by that?"

"No, my Lord. Only the Inner Circle understood. Only they are aware of who Harry is."

The Dark Lord thoughtfully ran fingers down his wand before motioning towards the great doors at the room's entrance. "What are you waiting for? Bring the intruder inside!"

Yaxley hastily begged forgiveness before quickly heading towards the doors and opening them to call in the boy. Lucius and Bellatrix both came inside upon the call, each one holding the intruder under the focus of their wands for good measure.

What Voldemort could see through the cloak that clothed the boy, he could see a small frame with a hint of pale white skin and blond hair light enough to match the Malfoys'. The cowl of the boy's dark cloak hid most of the face but that mattered little to him. Right now, the only important thing was whether the intruder truly had any relevant information. Identity could come later if he deemed the specimen worthy enough to continue breathing.

"Speak."

The boy was silent for a moment before a light, breathy voice airily replied, "About what?"

The three Death Eaters in the room held their breath. Nobody dared to speak to their master like that, not unless they had a death wish.

Voldemort had to clench his fingers and summon all of the self-control he had at the moment to refrain from killing his only lead. "I would watch your insolence," he hissed. "Speak to me about my ward."

"Your ward? You mean Harry? Oh, he was a lovely conversationalist and quite kind to me."

Sometimes, the Dark Lord wondered whether bad karma actually existed. How else could this pathetic excuse of an informant be the only thread he had to his Horcrux right now? "You know that was not what I was referring to, boy. Tell me where he is!"

The small mouth barely visible from beneath the cowl pursed itself before a light smile overcame it. "Oh, I have no idea. But a lovely young lady told me that Harry wanted me to come here as a favor. Maybe I could go with him to a lovely meadow to hunt some Nargles."

Perfect. Now he had somebody to unleash his irritation upon. The boy was truly of no use. "If that is all you have, child, I'm afraid you are not going anywhere anytime soon."

The boy barely twitched at the threat. "Oh, but she also told me that you would let me go if I told you 'the target is behind the barrier'."

Voldemort ceased fingering his wand at the offhand comment before a slow smile spread across his lips. "Now we are getting somewhere. Tell me, boy, what is your name?"

"That's the interesting part," the child chirped, suddenly happy at the new atmosphere. "I wonder why everybody's been calling me 'boy' when I'm really not."

_Humor the child and maybe he will have more information. _The Dark Lord had contemplated the use of Legilimency from the very beginning but he had been surprised to meet barriers almost as strong as Severus' had been. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

The boy – no, _girl_ – pulled back her hood to reveal short locks and an almost ethereal face complete with distant blue eyes. It was not surprising, with her attire and haircut, that many had thought her a boy. She certainly hadn't spoken against it until very recently. "My name is Luna, Mr. Dark Lord."

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><p><strong>Finals. Is. OVER. THANK GOD<strong>.

**Anyways, sorry about all the dialogue and whatnot but there was some important info that I needed to get out there. I know there were some questions in the reviews and I will answer them next chapter. Right now, I sort of need to finish something for school before second semester starts so I hope this wasn't too much of a bore for a transition sort of chapter and sorry for any mistakes I overlooked before posting this!**

**Oh, and Snape normally would be able to defeat Draco easily (or sort of considering he's out of practice after all those years in the Light) but he was taken by surprise. Most Light children do not instinctively retaliate like that. **

**Till Next Time!**


	24. Stars and Plots Have Something in Common

**I do now own anything that will get me sued.**

**Thank you to all of my patient reviewers! I really love reading them :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 24: Stars and Plots Have Something in Common<strong>

Timothy couldn't stop seeing that body fall from the sky. He had never known the Quidditch player himself but he had been one of the few to actually see what the body looked like before a blanket had been summoned to cover the corpse. It had been twisted – _grotesque_. The legs and arms had been splayed at unnatural angles as if somebody had taken the liberty of twisting them every which way. And that hadn't even been the bad part.

Timothy had read of suicides before. In the wizarding world, he knew that self-inflicted deaths were often committed with a swift Avada Kedavra shot at oneself but his mother had once said in passing how sad it was that Muggles did not have the same choice. Those with no magical ability either shot themselves an invention called the gun or – Merlin forbid – jumped off of a high building. When Timothy had imagined such a way of dying, he believed he could understand a bit of it, why some chose to jump instead. At least then, one could get a sense of flying, of weightlessness. But he had no idea just how _bloody_ it could be. When he had seen the body, he had not expected to see the boy's skull completely open and the contents splattered in a three feet radius in front of it. He had no expected to see the pool of so much _red_ gathering beneath it and the mouth agape in a soundless scream of terror.

It wasn't the face of somebody who had planned his death and accepted it. It was the face of somebody who had been faced with the sudden, irreversible end of his life.

Timothy shuddered and moaned as the last of Harry's footsteps disappeared down the hallway. How could the Slytherin be so composed and focused after what had happened? Things like that just didn't happen here, not in the Light where things were supposed to be better. People weren't supposed to die like that here. Sick monsters that enjoyed seeing such deaths only belonged on the other side of the barrier.

Or did they?

Bile crawled up his throat when Leila's face flashed before his eyes as an answer. He had known her for so long – ever since they had begun their first day here at Hogwarts! Never once had he seen her hurt a soul or even want to. She had been a defender, somebody who stood up to the bullies when they took it too far. She was the perfect student and had a bright future ahead of her. What had happened? Because Harry had been right. She _had_ been the one to do it. Maybe not directly, but it had undoubtedly been her orders that had caused all of this to happen.

It took a few minutes for him to quell the lurching in his stomach. How could he be…in _love_ with somebody like that? There, he had said it. He had been enamored with Leila for years. She had just a happy, hopeful disposition about her that made him feel as if things weren't as bleak as they seemed. Who was this creature that schemed and manipulated? What was this monster that had caused the death of a fellow student?

That was it, he told himself. This person was no longer Leila. Leila had disappeared somehow along the way. She had changed and now this _thing_ only needed to be eradicated. If he and Isa and didn't stop her, who would? Timothy had no doubt the magical teachers and some of the older magical students could but he hardly wanted that. If this leaked, if people found out that a Squib caused the death of a magical student, then their rights and their chances would be cut even more. Wizards and witches had longer memories and held even longer grudges.

Timothy's hands were shaking as he pushed himself upright. He was terrified and scared and completely out of his depth but if he was the only thing standing between Leila – no, not Leila…_it_ – and the next attack, then he would have to stand and hold his ground.

When he finally spotted one of Isa's members, he swiftly pulled the student aside and whispered into her ear, "Gather the rest and tell them this: find the painting of Barnabas the Barmy teaching some trolls ballet and circle the wall opposite of it three times while thinking 'I need to go into the same room Timothy did'. We're having a meeting." Timothy looked at her in the eyes. "I need this is be accurate and spread _quickly_. Tell them to come as soon as possible."

The girl looked at him wide-eyed but she nodded once and disappeared into the mass of students clamoring within the halls.

~0~

"What are we going to do with him now?" Raine asked, poking Snape with the toe of his shoe. "It's bad enough that we're stuck in here with a Basilisk. Now you've gone and created a ruckus. Maybe that reptile is going to come back and kill us for interrupting her nap."

Draco groaned. "I really don't need your attitude right now."

"I'm just being practical. What are we going to do, leave this guy here sprawled on the ground? What happens when people start to notice he's _missing_ back in the castle? I'm sure he's somebody some people know up there."

Draco knew that Raine was actually making sense for once. He really did need to wake this man – his godfather? – up but wariness stayed his hand. That, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to listen to the man speak anymore. In just a few sentences, this Snape had already twisted some of the facts he had believed to be true.

"Keep a hold on his wand," Draco said finally. "When I wake him up I don't want him to have any chance at getting it."

"Why don't we just snap it?"

Draco set his mouth into a firm line. "Because I might have some use of this man after all. _Enervate!_"

The dark man's eyes shot open immediately and a second later, he was thrashing in his bonds and spitting, "How dare you do this to me! This is exactly why I did not want to come down here –"

"Shut up," Draco snapped. He pressed the tip of his wand to Snape's throat. "You are only going to listen and speak when I allow you to."

Snape was smart enough to comply no matter how ridiculous it looked to have a teenager holding a full-grown wizard at wandpoint. His eyes only steeled themselves and his body went unnaturally still.

"Good," Draco said warily. "Now if Harry really did send you, you must know a way out. Don't bother arguing that you don't. If you don't find one and help us out, I'm going to snap your wand and feed you to the Basilisk down here." Draco wasn't so sure he could get the reptile to ingest the man, but it was worth verbalizing. Hopefully Snape didn't know any better. "Now stand up slowly and begin walking."

~0~

When Harry got the message from one of the Gryffindor Squibs, he indulged in a victorious grin. So he had trained Timothy well enough not to crack under pressure. That was good. It would have been a waste to have to discard the boy after so much trouble. Now if only he could get to Cole before Leila did. He needed to warn the Ravenclaw boy, warn him that something wasn't quite right about that girl.

He was headed towards a Ravenclaw group huddled among the countless other students sitting inside the Main Hall when a hand gripped his shoulder in an unrelenting grip. Harry flinched and whirled around in shock. Nobody approached him without his notice. Nobody.

Seeing the long, white beard and twinkling eyes, Harry realized that "nobody" was probably too bold a word to say. There had been exactly one person he knew who could surprise him. Now he would have to add Dumbledore to the list.

It took all of Harry's self-control not to twist his facial features into disgust. The pure Light power that radiated off the old man made him want to hurl and a part of him was grateful that the barrier here kept his own magic suppressed. He had no doubt that the Light Lord would have been able to sense which side he was on if such a restriction wasn't there.

"Hello, my boy," the old man jovially said. "I was only passing by but I couldn't help but notice how troubled you looked. Are you quite alright? I am sure that tragic accident must have been very traumatizing."

Merlin, even Dumbledore's _voice_ grated on Harry's nerves. It was happy and cloying to a degree he hadn't thought possible. What did the man do in his free time? Eat rainbows and flowers? Harry ran his eyes over the Headmaster's sparkly robes and realized that eating rainbows just might have the beginning, never mind what else the man did.

"I…It was very tragic," Harry choked out, part horrified part forged shock.

Dumbledore gave an understanding nod and held out a yellow candy. "Indeed, my boy. Perhaps a lemon drop might help?"

"Thank you…but I don't think I can eat anything right now."

"Ah…I suppose more for me then." The old man's eyes twinkled at the prospect. "After all, I might be a little queasy myself if I knew who committed such a deed myself."

Harry immediately wanted to tense. He wanted to bolt, to flinch, to _run_. Dumbledore's gaze was suddenly heavy and oppressive like accusations themselves. Harry should have known this man hadn't decided to comfort him for the sake of it. Somehow, he _suspected_.

But Harry kept himself composed and in character. His eyes widened and he gasped out, "You know? That's horrible!"

"It is," Dumbledore said slowly. "I have an inkling it is actually one of our very own students."

Harry trembled. "Oh, Merlin…Headmaster, what is going to happen to us?"

The old man was silent for a moment, as if trying to decide. Then he smiled again and cheerfully said, "You don't need to do anything, Mr. Evans. Just continue on and help others around you. In times like this, we need as much support as we can get."

Harry shakily smiled back. "Thank you, Headmaster. I will do just that."

It was only when Dumbledore was no longer in the Main Hall that Harry finally managed to tear himself out of place and back out. Cole would have to fend for himself. Right now, Harry had a little Gryffindor and his meeting to make sure went right. Because subtle and unnoticed was the name of the game now.

~0~

"Our next target will be Evans," Leila spat viciously, sprawled out in a Ravenclaw couch in front of a flaming, blue fire inside the Common Room. "He had no right to drag you out when he did. I had to activate the last Rune myself and it was nowhere near what I had wanted."

Cole had to swallow heavily and he suddenly wished he wasn't alone with her. The rest of the Ravenclaws were still in the Main Hall. "Target? Leila, I thought…I thought we were only trying to prove that we have rights too, that we shouldn't be bullied, that –" He fell silent when her gaze locked on to his own.

"Oh, Cole…that _is_ our goal and I must really thank you for helping me so far. Without you, I would have never been able to get to the place I am today." No, no, no. That was not what Cole wanted to hear. Because that meant he was just as responsible for the death today as she had been. Of course he had been. He had been the first to activate it all, wasn't he? And that thought made him want to curl in on himself and stay that way for the rest of his life. "But you must see," she continued. "We cannot get much further when there are people trying to stop us."

Cole's brow was furrowed in distress and he lifted a hand to his forehead. "But…was today necessary?"

"Completely. That Ravenclaw Quidditch player was one of those holding us back. He used to bully you, remember? We can't have people like that hindering our Rune master in his duties."

"But he hasn't done anything to me in weeks!"

"But he did for the _years_ before that, didn't he?"

That silenced Cole for the second time. It was true. That boy had tormented him for so much longer, making his life a living torture. But did that really warrant death? Did that really mean they could just decide other people's lives like that?

"Then why Evans?" Cole eventually asked. He needed to know even if the question did make her angry at him.

Leila's eyes narrowed but a gentle smile still graced her features as if somebody hadn't just died by her hand a few hours earlier. "He is helping Isa and Isa is our greatest obstacle right now."

"How do we know that for sure?" He was getting into dangerous territory but he decided to keep pushing.

"Because," Leila continued, now a harsh edge to her tone. "I know him, Cole."

Was that really it? Because Cole knew Harry too and as many times as the older boy teased him and taunted him at the most inappropriate times, the Slytherin never hesitated to help when Cole asked for it. There didn't seem to be an evil bone in his body. Manipulative and cunning, yes. But that was just the definition of a Slytherin and Cole could hardly fault Harry for that.

"But –"

"No more," Leila said quietly, dangerously. "Don't you trust me?"

Cole would have said yes without hesitation that morning. But now, he had to force his agreement. Was this really the same person who had saved him from the bullies? Was this really Leila? Harry had always spoken badly of her…and maybe there was a hint of truth to that. Before, all Cole saw was a kind girl who was his elder and savior who wanted to save the rest of the Squibs with her plans. Now he saw that same girl, but twisted and distorted into a picture that didn't seem quite right.

After hearing his affirmation, Leila relaxed and looked into the fire. "Evans cannot get in my way any longer."

~0~

_"Why do stars exist?"_

_The question was so unexpected the Dark Lord actually raised an eyebrow in surprise. He gave his Horcrux a considering look before finally saying, "Stars are merely fixed luminous points in the night sky that are large, remote incandescent bodies like the sun."_

_Harry furrowed his brow and pouted. "That makes no sense."_

_"You just require a more extensive vocabulary."_

_"That's not fair," Harry replied but a smile was on his face. "I'm always like that – being silly."_

_"Silly?"_

_Harry giggled. "Silly. You should…'loosen up'. That's what Uncle Rodolphus taught me. He taught me that saying. I should loosen up when talking to myself. Especially since I keep getting confused and saying 'you' instead of 'I'."_

_Harry had still to outgrow the notion that they were the same person. Four and still believing Voldemort and Harry Potter were one entity. "Indeed…" It seemed his follower would need a small talking to. He did not need such plebian knowledge crowding the brain matter in his Horcrux's mind. _

_"But really, why do stars exist?"_

_Ah, there was that now distinctive stubborn streak displaying itself again. Voldemort knew Harry would not let the question go until he was satisfied and since the meeting earlier today had gone well, the Dark Lord decided to humor his little charge._

_"Why do we think they exist?"_

_Harry pursed his small lips and stuck a finger to his chin in a mock thinking pose. He sat quietly, staring up at the small dots of light in the sky before finally saying solemnly, "I think they are people."_

_The Dark Lord scoffed. "Really. Is that the greatest conclusion you can construct?"_

_That pouting look was back on Harry's face. "Yeah."_

_"Little one, stars are not people."_

_"You know what I mean," Harry said a little imploringly. "Aren't they people? Like…people who just aren't here anymore?" _

_"What are we speaking of?"_

_"I mean…" Harry trailed off before he stuck his fist in his mouth, sulking. He mumbled, " I've been having dreams." _

_Never quite the precursor for good news. "Speak."_

_"You – well, I – have them too, right?" Harry asked pitifully. "Since we're the same…?"_

_"It's always good to hear them again. To recall what I might have forgotten."_

_A reassured smile touched the younger boy's face before he continued, "I keep seeing this woman when I sleep. She's always screaming…something like 'take me instead'. I don't understand why she is saying that but then a green light always comes up and it scares me." Harry's lips trembled at the memory. "Silly, right? I – I don't know. It's just scary."_

_"There's nothing to be afraid of," the Dark Lord murmured, his mind already plotting and planning. "I am right. It is only a bunch of silliness."_

_A hopeful grin brightened the Horcrux's expression. "Really?" _

_Voldemort picked up the young wizard and placed the child directly in front of him. Harry squealed in happiness at the contact and laughed. The quick rush of emotions forced the Dark Lord to pause for the briefest of milliseconds to quell them before placing a hand upon the child's forehead. "See? Nothing to be afraid of."_

_Harry laughed again and he gripped the hand that wasn't touching his forehead. "I am right," the child giggled to himself. "Silly me."_

_"Yes," the Dark Lord said slowly. "Silly." He watched the boy's exuberant face a moment more before whispering, __**"Obliviate."**_

_His Horcrux did not need such dreams and memories. _

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><p><strong>Okay so I was trying to upload this thing and there's the option for "file upload" right? And that's been working for me since the beginning of time and all of a sudden it's like "please upload a compatible file". And I was like "um...no." <strong>

**Anyway so if the formatting suddenly looks ridiculous...well...that's the copying and pasting you see there.**

**If not, then hooray :)**

**Anyways not much to say for this either. Um...it was kinda boring especially after so long with no updates...sorry about that :( Still not good with gruesome imagery either so that's bugging me and don't worry, you can tell this is all going to culminate into ****_something. _**

**Till next time!**


	25. Lost

**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

**Oh my gosh. It has been FAR too long since I've updated this. And for that, I am sincerely sorry. I really really really am! And I'm even more sorry to have to say that I probably won't update again until after the second week of May because exams are coming up...**

**Thank you to all my reviewers! Your comments help me so much and they make me feel fuzzy inside :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25: Lost<strong>

"He has no idea where he's going…does he?" Raine muttered in Draco's ear. "I'm pretty sure we've been past that pipe at least three times."

As much as Draco hated to admit it, the pixie had a point. The entire chamber felt like a maze and almost every corner looked the same but even he had noticed how this one pipe had a large scratch on it – the very same one they had passed before.

Draco sighed in exasperation and barked, "Stop."

Snape paused in his step and turned back, a filthy look on his face. "What is it that you want? Am I not doing what you requested?"

"Actually, no. We are no closer to the exit than we were before."

"Well, I'd already informed you that I do not know a way out."

Draco grit his teeth. "You have to know. Why can't we just go back the way you came in?"

"I'm fairly sure you came in the same way I did," Snape spat. "And if you had any semblance of intelligence in your thick skull, you would have realized that it's a pipe sealed in _Parseltongue_. Evans opened the entrance for me."

Draco still had no positive idea who this Evans person the man had been cursing the entire time was but it was easy enough to guess that was the name Harry had taken during his stay here. It made sense. The Dark Lord's ward could not go about using his real name.

"Then you don't know any way out? At all?" Raine asked, a touch of desperation in his tone. He, out of all them, had found it hardest to be wandering around a cave with a Basilisk loose. Draco had been reluctant to believe that at first but after seeing the pixie pale, relatively quiet, and shaking, it became obvious that pixies really did have issues with gigantic, killer snakes. "They way we've been wandering around…I can feel the Basilisk's restlessness."

Draco stared at the pixie. "You can _feel _the Basilisk?"

"I can sense when it's near or when its mood shifts, yes," Raine replied warily. "It's just a side effect, really. I can't help but feel it."

Draco's eyes lit up at the information and a slight grin touched his lips. It was a grin of victory and Raine's heart leaped a little in hope. One didn't just gain that expression without some reason for it. "Tell me, Snape. What do you know about Basilisks?"

The Potions Master grit his teeth and glared burning eyes at his godson. "Do you expect me to answer to your every question like a _dog_ –"

A single wave of Draco's wand and Snape was suddenly on his knees and clearly fighting to keep himself from shouting aloud in pain. Raine's eyes widened slightly at Draco's ferocity. He had always known the blonde was a Dark wizard and no stranger to the harsher manner of dealing with things, but actually seeing the difference between the boy who had been trapped within pixie dungeons less than a week ago and the boy who now stood strong and freely cursing a wizard many years his elder was a little startling.

"I asked you a question," Draco snapped. "Answer it."

The Malfoy heir lessened his spell to allow Snape breath to speak. "I know little," the Potions Master spat. "Only that almost any part of it would work well in many potions and that its eyes are capable of killing with a single glance."

Draco sneered disdainfully. "And you are supposedly my godfather. Pathetic. Basilisks have always been one of our Lord's greatest interests. I'm surprised you don't know more."

"Then please," Snape jeered. "Enlighten us lesser mortals about the _remarkable_ beast you think is so interesting."

Draco actually seemed to consider it for a moment, about to spout into a lecture about the dangerous reptile. But then his eyes narrowed and he turned his back to the Potions Master. "I don't think I will. You are useless and this is wasting our time. There is no point in bringing you with us anymore."

The older wizard didn't miss the underlying message and he began to exclaim, "You aren't going to just leave me here!"

"_Petrificus Totalus."_ Snape was suddenly silent and unmoving in his position. "It's a pity but you are a traitor and I hardly think taking the extra effort to bring along extra baggage would be worth my while." Draco smiled, a vicious sweetness poisoning his expression. "Goodbye, _godfather_."

~0~

Harry slipped into the Room of Requirement just behind a particularly large group of Squibs who had heard the message. He scowled at their idiocy – groups attracted attention! – but he smoothed out his features as he strode further into the room to search for Timothy. He had to make sure he played this perfectly. It was unfortunate that he had lost some of his composure earlier when he had spoken to Timothy alone. Harry could only hope that the Squib only believed his "friend's" abrupt change in personality was due to the shocking events just a few hours previous.

And even if Timothy did believe Harry's behavior strange, what was he going to do? Throw away the only person in the entire school who he had come to rely upon?

Hardly.

Harry found Timothy at the very front of the room where a slightly raised platform placed him separate from the growing crowd. The Slytherin wasted no time in climbing up and approaching.

"Timothy –"

"You were right."

Harry froze for the briefest of moments. Since when did his little Gryffindor pet find no problem in interrupting him? Perhaps Timothy had done it when they had first met, when he was still confident and independent of Harry's presence, but in the last few weeks the Squib had hung on to every word Harry had said. But Harry did not dwell on it for too long. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and neutrally replied, "Really?"

"I have to take a stand," Timothy said, his hands tightening into fists. "I know I've said it before but I think the both of us know that I hadn't really meant it. I thought that this would be quick, something that wouldn't blow into something so big. But you were right. If we let this get any more serious, the wizards – the ones that aren't still students – are going to be over us like hawks." The Squib's face was taut and his mouth set in a thin line. "We _have_ to stop Leila…even if it means larger retaliation."

Aw…his little lion had finally made his first life-changing decision. It made Harry want to smile victoriously.

"If that's what you believe," Harry replied. "I will help you no matter what, Timothy. You know that right?"

A slight look of relief overcame Timothy's features and he let out a long sigh before nodding. "I know. Thank you, Harry."

~0~

Cole wanted to run away. He didn't care where as long as it was as far away as possible. Bile coated his tongue as he watched the scene before him.

"What did that Ravenclaw just tell you?" Leila snarled at a Second Year Hufflepuff who was cowering against the wall of the empty corridor they were in. The little girl's robes were disheveled from Leila's previous grip and her small frame trembled in the face of interrogation.

"N-nothing –"

"Don't lie to me!" Leila hissed. "I know that Ravenclaw said something to you!"

"Please –"

The girl shrieked as Leila slammed one of her hands upon her shoulders. "Don't _lie_."

"I – I'm sorry!" the Second Year yelled in terror.

It was amazing how quickly things could escalate. Leila had just finished her conversation with Cole about Harry being their next target and they were leaving the dorms together when she had seen a Third Year Ravenclaw whisper something into the girl's ear. It could have been anything – a little flirting, a small reminder spoken into the ear, a tiny and meaningless exchange – but Leila had spontaneously lunged at the girl the moment she was alone and now Cole was watching as she viciously demanded the information she believed to exist.

This was insanity, Cole realized in a moment of sickening clarity. Leila was…unhinged. She hadn't been like this before. But something had happened and now she was seeing ghosts and plots in everything and everybody.

How else could he explain what was happening? Since when had she sunk so low as to threaten a _Second Year_? The girl was just a Squib like themselves and she had only been here for little more than a year.

"Leila, wait. I don't think she knows anything," Cole began but he flinched when Leila whirled around to glare at him.

"Stay out of this, Cole!"

He wanted nothing more than to do just that but the pleading look in the Hufflepuff's eyes and her scared expression kept him in place.

Leila grasped the girl's brown locks in one hand and tugged her small head back harshly against the wall. "You are going to tell me what that Ravenclaw said to you right now."

The girl sobbed a little. "I – I don't…" She dissolved into full-blown tears as Leila viciously yanked her head to smash against the stone behind her.

For Merlin's sake, the girl was just _twelve_.

"The p-painting!" the Hufflepuff finally cried. "There's a painting! Of Barnabas the Barnaby! Timothy is having a meeting there!"

A twisted grin replaced Leila's previous snarl. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" She released the Hufflepuff and watched with that same smile marring her face as the girl ran away sobbing.

It made Cole sick to his stomach.

But he couldn't speak because all of a sudden, Leila's eyes were upon him and he understood why the girl earlier had been so terrified. He was almost sure that the Hufflepuff Squib had been bullied in her time. Actions like Leila's should have been normal to a point. But something about Leila's eyes made Cole's blood run cold and he was horrified by how _unbalanced_ she looked. There was a crazed haze to her expression and Cole was struck by the enormity of his situation.

Cole had gotten himself tangled up with a madwoman.

But she had saved him, she had helped him out of his little hell here. How could he forget that? How could he forget the times she helped him up and brushed him clean?

Then again, how could he forget the broken body down at the Quidditch pitch?

There were two sides to this girl who had helped him and Cole was suddenly unsure he could overlook the half of her that had killed the Seeker.

He barely heard her next words, her next commands. She wanted him to gather Eihwaz and to inform them of the painting where the meeting was taking place. No doubt, she thought Harry would be there beside Timothy. Cole could only nod numbly and watch her walk away to plot the downfall of yet another student.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to help her? Help another student _disappear_?

Cole was lost and once upon a time, he would have gone to Leila for advice. But now…now he only had one other person to ask.

He was running for the painting of Barnabas the Barnaby a moment later.

~0~

Raine was actually visibly trembling now. Before, Draco could ignore the pixie's fear but now it almost seemed as if Raine was literally dragging his feet.

"It can't be that bad," Draco sighed.

"How would you know?" Raine snapped back, clearly at his breaking point. "You can't sense how completely _unnatural_ this – this creature is. It's not supposed to exist. It wasn't made by Nature."

Draco eyed the pixie. "Basilisks hatch. They breed. What isn't natural about that?"

"The very first Basilisk was not natural. It was made by _mortal_ hands." He shivered. "Unnatural."

That was news to Draco. He had never known that but in his eyes, that fact just made the Basilisk that much more fascinating. So they were created, not born.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Raine asked, a touch of desperation in his voice. "How do we even know for sure this is going to work?"

"We don't," Draco said bluntly. "But would you rather be stuck down here until who knows when? For all we know, Harry might not come back. Normally this wouldn't work because as large as Basilisks are, they are known for being silent. But since you can sense it, this is our best shot."

"But how do we know that it will show us a way out?"

Draco sighed. "We're going to have to wait. It will have to leave the Chamber eventually. I know for a fact that Basilisks venture over a large range to hunt. Once it leaves, we can follow it and find a way out."

Raine choked at those words and glared at the young wizard. "So you're betting all of this on the small possibility that we might find some way out by following a _gigantic, deadly Basilisk_?"

"It's that or we stay stuck down here with it."

~0~

The sound of giggling permeated the air as the slight tendrils of the first morning sunlight breathed life to the room. The curtains swayed in the easy breeze and a crisp edge lent a clean bite to the atmosphere. It was peaceful in all definitions of the word and for the first time in the last few months, Voldemort was not inclined to destroy it.

The giggling, though, had to stop.

"Silence, girl," he said sharply as he laid down his quill.

Luna only airily smiled as she threaded fingers through her bob-cut. "It's nice here."

Voldemort only turned back to his work and decided to ignore her inane commentary. She had been here for a week now and she had not done much besides wandering the small wing he had permitted her to venture around and mumbling to herself about Nargles and other nonsense. He had yet to discover completely who she was; he had tried Legilimency of course but her mind had been clouded with a mess of flashes – the sign of a Seer. Even though he knew that much, there were still far too many variables for Voldemort to allow her much freedom here. The only thing that was keeping him from disposing of her completely was her information about Harry. For all he knew, there could be more in that convoluted mind concerning his Horcrux.

He eyed the bangle for the hundredth time and again set to work. Now that he knew Harry was behind the Light barrier, he could manipulate the magical structure of the object into piercing it. Obliterating meager Light had been low on his list before but now that his ward was there, he had far greater a motivation to devote more of his time to destroy the barrier. The divide had been quite helpful, really, over the years. It kept insurgents from leaking out, kept the Dark and Light polarized and therefore his rule was solidified. Voldemort would have been content to keep the barrier there until he had managed to control more of Europe but this was now of the utmost priority.

He valued himself more than anything else after all.

"Do you think he wants to come back?"

Voldemort decided to humor his newest prisoner. "Harry?"

Luna idly played with the necklace of bottle caps hanging around her neck. "I think he's lost."

"Hardy, girl. He knows where he belongs." _Beside me._

She tilted her head to the side before sincerely asking, "Then why is he not here?"

Voldemort's pleasant mood was quickly evaporating. "He has foolishly disillusioned himself. But not for long."

The girl's eerie blue eyes stared into space as a burble of a sigh left her lips. "I think he's lost."

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><p><strong>Again, I'm sorry for taking this long to update. I checked the last time I updated and nearly had a heart attack. It's been practically TWO MONTHS. And that is unforgivable. I actually tried writing this several times before but I felt a little like a writer's block had attacked me. I still sort of feel that way but I'm getting back in the groove :)<strong>

**And I think this is a pathetically short chapter for so long away but I couldn't get much more out of it. So I decided to just post this and hope for the best the next time I attacked this again. **

**This chapter is also very chopped I think. The scenes are far shorter than I'm used to writing. It makes me feel prickly inside and not in a good way. **

**Next time will be much better, I promise! There will be much more happening anyways. This was more a transitional feel, yea?**

**Again, I dislike my characterization of Voldemort in this one. Maybe I'll stop writing from his perspective. Not writing form his perspective is easier to paint his cold nature better. Then again...that would be giving into the challenge and I can't do that now can I?**

**And poor Snape. He really is a better wizard than he is portrayed here (both skill wise and personality wise) but he doesn't exactly have his wand to show Draco's who's the real boss here and hey, I'd be irritated too if I was stuck in a musty chamber underneath a school too.**

**Till next time!**


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